


Last Resort Contingency

by njw



Series: Jaytim Week Prompt Oneshots and Stories [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Angst, Assumed Relationship, Humor, JayTim Week, JayTimBINGO2019, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Not Really Character Death, Pining, magical transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-07-25 18:16:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20030206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/njw/pseuds/njw
Summary: Red Robinreallydidn’t want it to ever have to come to this. The Bats don’t even know he’s in Gotham right now, let alone fighting for his very life. The Titans, his best friends and team, are off-planet. He’s not sure how long they’ll be gone or how they’ll react when they get back and realize…Whatever, it hardly matters at this point. He’s already gone over the possibilities. Right now,thisis his only choice, the only way to escape being taken andusedby Ra’s al Ghul as a weapon against everything he holds dear.He bites his lip, stifles what feels suspiciously like a sob, and then triggers the last resort mechanism inside his false tooth just as a little click sounds and a muffledboomlights the world on fire.*For thetumblr Jaytim month(ish) 2019week one mythology prompt.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enormous thanks to Ayzenigma, Gwyxander, Nykyrianne, Salazarastark, and Strawberryjei for the excellent beta. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Red Robin crashes through the boarded-over window into the abandoned warehouse, landing in a bruising roll and making it back to his feet just in time to fend off the three ninja who followed him. Unfortunately, he’s not quite fast enough to avoid a brutal kick that feels like it might have cracked a rib or two.

He quickly orients himself in the gloomy, cavernous space, noting the exposed girders and darkened catwalks overhead as well as the cluttered, debris-strewn concrete floor. There are no footprints in the dust beyond the area their movements have already disturbed, and no sign of the auction he came to disrupt.

_Somehow, I don’t think this is actually a human trafficking operation. Based on their fighting style, these ninja are definitely League-trained. And the League doesn’t usually take an interest in _those _kinds of criminal activities, at least not in Gotham. Angering Batman isn’t worth the risk. So what _exactly _did I stumble into here?_

The League of Shadows assassins are being unusually persistent. He’s already taken down several dozen, but they just keep coming at him in droves_._

This isn’t the routine testing Ra’s performs every so often during which a handful of ninja attack Red Robin at random, perfunctorily running him through his paces until he gets bored and knocks them all unconscious, then liberates their weapons and replaces them with rubber chickens. It _definitely _isn’t the usual skeleton crew of unobtrusive ninja who quietly monitor him from afar on a regular basis. He plays cards with those guys sometimes when he gets bored, and he hasn’t recognized any of these so far.

_Well, fuck. Guess they’re going off-script tonight._

His mind flies through the myriad potential explanations which immediately occur to him. Ra’s may be using these ninja to distract him from something even _bigger _going down elsewhere, or this attack might constitute some kind of even more screwed up than usual test… Of course, there’s always the chance al Ghul has finally decided Red Robin is no longer interesting.

Which, while great in _theory, _is actually a fairly concerning possibility. In that scenario, Ra’s no longer has any reason to keep Red alive and may finally choose to punish him for every time he got the best of the old villain over the years. Worst-case, he may now be considered disposable.

He’s slowing down, still taking out ninja right and left, but beginning to tire. More blows are landing on him, he’s winded, and that cracked rib isn’t appreciating his current activities. The situation is _not_ looking good.

_Damn, I wish the Titans were on earth right now. This is starting to feel like the kind of trainwreck that would justify calling Kon in for help. As it is, I have no idea if whatever they’re using to block my comms is letting my distress beacon through, or if that’s blocked too._

Without the location signal from his distress beacon, the odds of anyone in the family even thinking to look for him here are slim to none. This deep in the Bowery, the only Bat with even a chance of stumbling on them is Red Hood. The thought of the older man brings a quick flutter to his heart despite the circumstances. They’ve come a _long _damn way from the years when it would have been a toss-up on whether the man would intervene to help Red or the goddamn _ninja_, or hell, maybe just sit back, crack a beer, and watch his hated replacement fall.

At this point, after months of regular team ups for cases, swinging by each other’s patrol routes with bags of savory street food for some casual intel swapping, and the occasional patch job when they stumble across each other after a fight gone wrong, he _knows _Hood would have his back. Whatever tangled mess the Pit put in the older man’s head all those years ago, he’s managed to work through it and at least bring himself to work with Red Robin.

That’s a hell of a lot more than he could have hoped for not so long ago. Even if it’s less than he might once have dreamed, before sneered words cutting deep as the knives which carved his naïve hope to shreds, along with his too-small, too-weak body.

Whatever, he’s lucky to have salvaged a functional working relationship out of that whole fiasco, let alone the nascent friendship which has been growing between the two of them.

The trouble is, with the knowledge of the other’s schedule their current state of careful amnesty affords him, he _also _knows Hood’s tied up tonight on a stakeout all the way on the other end of his territory. He’d considered calling him on the comms for backup anyway, but decided against it due to the older man’s known antipathy for child traffickers. No reason to wave a red flag in front of that bull, especially when he’d _thought _he could handle this himself.

_No help coming from that quarter… shit._

With a sinking heart, he begins to realize the full extent of the trap he’s blundered into so trustingly, so _stupidly_.

Of course, that’s the moment when Ra’s al Ghul’s very unwelcome voice spills silkily from hidden speakers. “Your little team is off-planet as of an hour ago, unlikely to return for at least a month.” Red Robin can _hear _the smirk in the ancient villain’s tones. “And you were meant to accompany them, were you not, until you received word from one of your long-time informants regarding a potential new case involving child trafficking, supposedly headquartered here in this warehouse?”

The fine hairs on the back of his neck rise at the implications. The ninja fall back, allowing him to pant as he listens to the Demon’s Head and frantically tries to come up with as many contingencies as possible to foil the League and contain the fallout from whatever Ra’s is planning.

Ra’s _knew_ about the tip off, early enough to get his assassins in place ready to attack Red Robin the moment he showed his face here. That… doesn’t make _sense,_ unless he’s being watched even closer than he suspected. Which is quite concerning. He knows many ways to slip the leash on al Ghul’s surveillance, and if those are failing… more lives than his might be compromised.

Or… if the prostitute who gave him this information sold it to the League first. The thought sends a stab of painful disbelief and betrayal through him. This tip came from an informant who’s been more than an acquaintance, almost a friend really, since the night a thirteen year-old Robin dropped down to save her from a group of men who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Memories of shared moments of laughter, numerous tips over the years which _always _proved to be good, and encouragement and concern that _hadn’t _been feigned fill his mind, causing his conviction that Ra’s is trying to manipulate him to firm.

_Lina wouldn’t, no… She’s been one of my informants almost since the beginning, I don’t…_

“If you’ve _hurt_ her—” Red Robin begins, all too aware of the many ways the League has to torture someone into compliance. While he doesn’t want to imagine Lina in that kind of situation, it’s actually far more believable than the idea that she would lead him into a trap voluntarily.

Ra’s chuckles lightly. “Ah, my Detective, the most difficult aspect of betrayal is that the blow is delivered from one you _trust_ rather than a known enemy. Lina was _always_ one of mine. I left her here after your very fascinating performance the first time we met. You intrigued me even then, and not merely for your boldness and ingenuity in attacking me whilst riding a comically oversized coin in defense of your mentor.”

Red sucks in a breath, chest tight and aching at this apparent evidence of years of deception. Everything fits, though he wishes like hell it didn’t.

_I would never have backed out of a mission with the Titans for anything less than a detailed tip from someone I trusted. But that leads us to the question… Just what the hell is Ra’s going for here? It must be pretty bad if it was worth exposing his plant after all this time._

He sets aside his hurt and sorrow at the revelation regarding the true motivations of someone he thought cared about him. It’s not like this is a new lesson for him, after all. He learned how to deal with disappointment from the people close to him a long time ago.

“Still, I am certain you will be pleased to hear the child trafficking ring you stayed behind to investigate does not exist. Is that not a relief? Unfortunate, though, that with the timing of the tip you had little to no opportunity to prepare before the supposed auction which you were led to believe would be taking place here tonight. And of course, with your communication device so inconveniently not working…”

Red Robin closes his eyes. The pieces of Ra’s al Ghul’s plan spin into place in his mind and lock into a horrifying pattern.

_Fuck. I’m screwed, aren’t I?_

“No one knows you are here. In fact, no one on Earth is aware you did not depart the planet with your team. Meaning I may _take_ you now and convince you of my philosophy at my leisure, because _no one _will even realize you are missing. I shall have plenty of time to engineer evidence of your death during the interim period before your team returns to earth and knowledge of your whereabouts becomes a concern. The trail will lead back to this very warehouse, which is already rigged to explode tonight. I possess sufficient stores of your DNA to provide positive identification of what little remains will be found here, courtesy of your former spleen.”

_Wow. Seriously. How do you not _hear _how creepy that is?_

“I am clipping your wings, Detective. I am sure you will grow accustomed to your new cage, in time. And then… I will make you _mine, _body and soul.” The man’s lascivious tone leaves very little doubt of the sentiment behind his words.

_Ew. Welp, I guess I was wrong about Ra’s killing me off being the worst-case scenario._

Red’s body tenses against his will as his contingencies crumble one by one before the insidious trap Ra’s set for him this time. There’s no way in _hell _he’ll risk succumbing to whatever the man has planned to try to brainwash him into becoming his willing _whatever. _He really doesn’t want to think too hard about the exact _nature _of the older man’s interest in him. He’ll probably be sick if he does, and that’s the last thing he needs right now.

But the possibility of the villain somehow turning him through torture, exposure to the waters of the Pit, or some hitherto unknown method, is terrifyingly real. And Red Robin _can’t _risk the lives of everyone whose secrets he holds.

_If it will save _them_… it’s worth it. No matter _what_ it means for me._

“Well, my Detective?” Ra’s purrs, sounding supremely satisfied with himself. His voice oozes confidence, as though the outcome of his machinations is already a foregone conclusion. _“Submit_ yourself to me, and avoid any further bruises. Every mark on your fair skin that isn’t _mine _is a travesty.”

_Oh my god, _super_ gross_._ He’s totally getting worse. Didn’t he used to be more _subtle _about the whole creepy, creepy crush? Ugh, maybe it’s because I’m over eighteen now, or just that he thinks he’s closer to getting what he wants. Yuck._

“Yeah, that’s never gonna happen.” Red Robin triggers his gauntlets to release smoke bombs, tear gas, and birdarangs, knowing the assassins are tracking his movements and tensing in preparation to counter him. While all their attention is on his hands, he manages to work the cap of his false tooth loose with his tongue.

_Like tying a knot in a cherry stem… simple, but ingenious. Damn, I’m glad Steph taught me how to do that. It comes in handy sometimes._

The assassins close in as he launches his arsenal. The warehouse fills with smoke and gas even as his birdarangs find their targets, disabling and disarming two of the attackers.

Through the smoke, he hears Ra’s sigh in amusement over the loudspeakers. “I have triggered the explosives. You have exactly one minute to surrender yourself and allow my warriors to escort you to my side. I will not take no for an answer this time.” Ra’s still sounds utterly certain of his success.

_Pride goes before a fall, you horny old goat._

There are still too many opponents, and most likely more reinforcements staged outside. Even if he makes it out of the warehouse, he will be swarmed before he can defeat or evade them.

Seeing no other way, Red Robin closes his eyes for a moment, trying to pretend the sting of tears in his eyes is entirely due to the gas he just released entering through the rips in his cowl.

It’s time to enact his final contingency. He _really _didn’t want it to ever have to come to this. The Bats don’t even know he’s in Gotham right now, let alone fighting for his very life. The Titans, his best friends and _team,_ are off-planet. He’s not sure how long they’ll be gone or how they’ll react when they get back and realize…

_If only I could leave them a message._

Whatever, it hardly matters at this point. Red’s already gone over the possibilities. Right now, _this_ is his only choice, the only way to escape being taken and _used _by Ra’s al Ghul as a weapon against everything he holds dear.

He hears the assassins calling out to one another in alarm at their inability to locate him through the smoke, and hopes they all manage to fall back and get out of the warehouse before the explosion. Ra’s is screaming at them to find him and get him _out _of there. Apparently, he’s realized things aren’t about to go his way.

_Serves you _right, _asshole._

Red Robin bites his lip, stifles what feels suspiciously like a sob, and then triggers the last resort mechanism inside his false tooth just as a little click sounds and a muffled _boom _lights the world on fire.

* * *

Dying flames lick the remaining walls of the ruined structure as Red Hood drops down to investigate the source of an explosion in his territory, just a few hours before dawn. He’d been busy knocking some respect into the drug dealing scum whose operations he’d been staking out when it went off, and he’s got a really bad feeling about this one.

_No one operates outta this warehouse. It wasn’t a meth lab and as far as I know, none of the gangs have been cookin’ anything shady up down here. So we’re left with what, maybe arson? Some pyro motherfucker getting his rocks off blowin’ shit up?_

He works his way through what’s left of the warehouse, keeping an eye on the portions of the roof and walls which remain intact to spot anything about to come down. He traces the patterns of burn marks in an attempt to identify the point of origin and maybe gather some clues about how this happened. An arsonist usually strikes again, in his experience. While there thankfully don’t seem to have been any squatters caught in this building, the next one might not be so empty.

And if there _was_ anything else going on here such as drug manufacture or other criminal activities someone wanted to cover up, well, he needs to know that shit too so he can track those assholes down and deal with them properly.

Based on the evidence, this explosion and the subsequent fire were likely caused by multiple powerful incendiary devices, laid out in an almost professional pattern. He gathers material samples to analyze, but he’s pretty sure they’ll only confirm the conclusion growing in the back of his mind.

_This is way too fuckin’ familiar. I recognize the style from my own damn training, back when I was running under Talia. But what the _fuck _does the League want with an old, empty warehouse in the goddamn Bowery?_

He kicks aimlessly at the debris, using his boot to nudge aside a large fragment of concrete. As the debris shifts, it exposes what appears to be a choice assortment of the trash that likely peppered the floor in here prior to the explosion. Bottlecaps, a battered child’s action figure, what looks disgustingly like a goddamn _used condom, _and a scrap of paper are all well-preserved, likely because they were protected by a chunk of the roof falling on them before the fire reached this portion of the warehouse.

Maybe there’s some kind of clue on the paper. Red Hood squats down and checks it out, dropping it in disgust when he realizes it’s just a torn-out page from a skin mag. That, added to the condoms… Yeah, he’s suddenly grateful he was wearing gloves when he touched the damn thing.

_Fuck, that’s disgusting._

He’s about to stand when the little action figure catches his eye. At first glance, he’d thought it was Batman based on the cape and cowl. Just for that, he’d definitely been planning on stepping on it in contempt on his way out of the warehouse, but…

The tiny cowl doesn’t have ears. Reaching out, he carefully picks up the tattered toy, turning it over to see its front. A whole bunch of red catches his eye, along with the crisscross bandoliers and utility belt which immediately identify this little guy as Red Robin.

_Aw, his itty-bitty cape is torn, and his cowl’s half ripped off his face. Got some nasty damage on his costume, too._

“Damn, you’ve had a hell of a bad day, haven’t you, little buddy?” His lips twitch into a faint smile as he rubs a thumb gently along the side of the Red Robin action figure’s head where his face is exposed. Shaking his head, he starts to set it back on the floor, then pauses.

The poor little action figure looks so bedraggled and pitiful. It sure as hell doesn’t help that it’s well-made, with a more than passing resemblance to the actual Baby Bird. He hadn’t realized the figurines for sale these days were so damn detailed and lifelike. Then again, he doesn’t really pay much attention to all the unofficial Gotham hero merch, preferring to stick to his favorite tried-and-true Wonder Woman shirts.

“Fuck, they even got your cute little mouth just right. Only that smudge makes you look like someone punched you in it.” He frowns. The torn suit and battered state of the doll remind him way the hell too much of all the times he let the damn Pit rage drive his fists into the smaller vigilante’s body, way back before he got a handle on it.

Back before he started to get to know his successor better through working tentatively with the Bats, and realized how brilliant he is, how kind. Before he noticed how fuckin’ _gorgeous _the kid is now that he’s all grown up. How smart his mouth is, and how much Hood wants to know if those lips are as soft as they look.

_Not that it makes any goddamn difference how I feel about him now. No matter how much I regret what I did when I wasn’t in control, I can never make it up to him, not in a hundred years. There’s no way he’ll ever trust me enough to let me be a true part of his life. He’s too smart for that. So why bother even trying? I’m lucky as hell he’ll even work with me and hang out sometimes. _

Still, he physically _can’t_ bring himself to just drop the action figure on the floor and walk away.

_God, I’m such a pathetic loser._

That doesn’t stop him from carefully sliding the little doll into his pocket, whispering, “Don’t worry, Little Red, I got you now. I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore.” He pats his pocket reassuringly before grappling away, busy figuring out which of his League contacts he needs to hit up to figure out what the hell Ra’s is up to this time.

_And maybe I’ll clean this little guy up, give him to some nice kid who looks like they’d take good care of a toy. That way at least _one _of us can get a fuckin’ happy ever after._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tim, fighting off army of ninja:** “Well this has not gone according to plan”  
**Ra’s, with a lecherous leer: ** “Oh you’ll COME according to plan, all right! My plan! And by my plan, I mean my peni—”  
**Tim, noping right the hell out of that situation: ** “Wtf why are you so creepy” *Throws self right into explosion to escape* “YEET”  
*  
**Jason, searching rubble afterwards: ** “Damn I wish Tim wasn’t so distractingly attractive and not into me” *Finds Red Robin action figure* “Well hello, Handsome” *Tucks it surreptitiously into his pocket* “I need this for… evidence” *Looks shifty-eyed and blushes before skulking away*


	2. Chapter 2

Hood’s surprised to see the Red Robin action figure actually cleans up pretty damn well. He gently runs a warm, wet washcloth over the little toy to continue cleansing it of the grime and dust from its sojourn on the filthy warehouse floor.

“You’re not in as bad a shape as I thought, are you, Baby Bird? Nothin’ a little TLC won’t repair. Damn, it’s satisfying to be able to _fix _something to do with Red Robin, even if it’s just a fuckin’ toy. Seems like all I ever manage to do with the real guy is fuck things up worse, no matter how much I want to make things better and do right by him.”

He huffs a self-deprecating laugh and shakes his head. “You’re easy to talk to. Maybe I’ll keep you around a while longer just for that.”

_Who would’ve thought I’d ever be hanging around talking to a damn doll—action figure—whatever. Kid’s toy. Action Tim. Damn, I’m an idiot, why the hell am I even wasting time thinking about this?_

A soft chime draws Red Hood’s attention over to his computer where the results are finally complete for the materials analysis on the samples he picked up at that warehouse fire. Tossing the washcloth to the side, he studies the screen for a few minutes. He’s unsurprised at the confirmation of his suspicions regarding the origins of the incendiary devices. To his amusement, the action figure in his hand almost seems to be staring at the screen as well.

“Whaddaya think, Timbo?” he asks conversationally, glancing down as though waiting for a reply and then shaking his head with a snort. “Yeah, you’re right. Of fuckin’ _course _it’s the goddamn League.”

Like there was even any doubt at this point.

He’s had a hell of time pulling information about what the fuck Ra’s is up to in Gotham from any of his sources, though. Every damn one of them clammed up as soon as he got around to the subject, which is a pretty clear indication whatever the League is up to here is more serious than he thought.

_Fuck. I’m gonna hafta call Baby Bird on this one._

Not that Hood has anything against talking to his replacement. There’s no jealousy or resentment over the extensive network of informants the younger bat maintains, which is second only to Oracle’s. No, it just kinda sucks to work closely too often with the younger man. It’s like getting a taste of what he really wants but can never have. And why the hell would he do that to himself?

Because he’s fuckin’ _weak _when it comes to the other former Robin. That’s gotta be the only explanation for all the time he’s spent around him over the past few months. Maybe he’s a masochist at heart.

_Fuck it. Might as well enjoy this, then. _

He lifts the action figure again, and it really almost seems like the bright, painted eyes are looking back expectantly. “You think the real you would be down for a team-up? Maybe some rooftop pizza after? Don’t tell him, but I’d even get him that crazy one with the onions and artichokes he likes so much.” He grins. “Fuck, good idea. I’ll bring him coffee, too, Baby Bird’s crazy about that shit. Thanks, Timmy!” He slips Action Tim into his pocket like a good luck charm.

Better call the real Tim before he overthinks it.

It doesn’t help that he’s low-key terrified that someday in a state of blood loss, sleep dep, or maybe fucked on pollen, he’s just gonna blurt out his stupid crush. _That’s _sure to go down like a goddamn lead balloon. His life’s finally on the upswing after circling the fucking drain for years, so the last thing he needs is to screw it all up by alienating his replacement right when he’s finally managed to start making amends.

Still, this Ra’s thing is probably important enough to justify a little mental suffering on his part. Besides, he’ll take any scraps of time he can get with the younger man, even if it’ll never lead to the kind of closeness and affection he really wants. If they manage to pull a functional friendship out of the horrendous shitstorm he made of their early interactions, he’ll count himself lucky and be goddamn grateful for it.

He activates the comm line for Little Red’s private channel. “Red Robin, it’s Hood. Got a minute?”

Silence is his only answer, which doesn’t worry him at first. After all, Red’s a busy guy who’s probably out on patrol knocking some asshole upside the head with his staff right now. Or, considering the time, he might be hunched over a desk mainlining coffee into his veins while solving ridiculously complex cold cases that stumped everyone else who ever touched them. Or maybe he’s on the other side of the world directing a hostile corporate takeover while looking _damn_ fine in a sleekly tailored suit.

Hood maybe gets stuck on that mental image for a while, so it takes him longer than he should to notice Red still hasn’t picked up.

That… isn’t normal. Even if he’s busy with the Titans or Wayne Enterprises or whatever, Red’s really fucking good about answering this line, at least to check in and find out if there’s an emergency.

Unbidden, the thought passes through his mind that Ra’s has always been far too damn interested in Red Robin. Especially since the young Bat impressed the old fucker during that whole fucked up mess while Bruce was traipsing through the timestream and Red somehow ended up taking down half the League in his effort to prove B was still alive.

Now Ra’s is apparently moving in Gotham, and Red isn’t answering his emergency comm. The two items might not be connected, but he’s not about to dismiss the possibility out of hand without investigating.

_Shit. This whole can of worms just keeps getting more complicated._

Red Hood takes a deep breath and lets it out on a long, weary sigh, not looking forward to the next step. If talking to Red Robin would have been a little risky because he enjoys it too much, seeking out and talking to Nightwing about Little Red is going to be a fucking minefield. The older man has _not _forgiven and forgotten past sins.

He slouches down in his seat, frowning petulantly in what he’s definitely not going to admit is a pout, then pauses when he feels something poking him through his pocket.

_The fuck_…_?_

He reaches down and snorts a startled laugh when it turns out to be the action figure again. Apparently, he shouldn’t keep it in his pants pocket unless he wants to get stabbed in the junk at odd moments. Jacket pocket it is, then.

“Hey there, Baby Bird. Could you maybe try not to stab me in the junk next time? Damn, this is _not _the way I fantasize about you getting into my pants.” He grins, then heaves a long sigh. “Wish I could just ask _you_ what the hell’s going on with the fuckin’ League.”

He idly plays with it for a bit, walking it along his desk before making it flip through the air. “You better be doing something _awesome _right now instead of calling me back, by the way.” There’s a Superman bobblehead Roy sent him as a gag gift last year sitting by the monitors. Action Tim sends it flying with a spinning kick. “Sorry Supes, even you can’t put up a fight against him. Timmy’s just that fuckin’ _irresistible._ I’d know.” He snickers, then sobers.

It _really _shouldn’t be taking him this long to call back.

Red Hood eyes the battered action figure, a worried frown twitching his lips as he runs a finger over the tiny, torn cowl. He shakes his head, whispering, “Where the fuck _are _you, Tim?”

The computer chimes again. With a gathering sense of dismay, he reads the display, then types in instructions for a new analysis.

There was _human DNA _in the material samples he gathered from the bombed-out warehouse. Hopefully it’s just some old blood stains of something, but… The quality indicates it’s fairly fresh, and an explosion that size could easily have killed someone and gotten rid of a lot of the remains. If the assassins took the rest with them, maybe cleaned up the site to hide the evidence… Someone could have _died _there.

Hood won’t know anything about the potential victim’s identity until the computer finishes running the analysis, but the bad feeling he’s had about this case from the first moment abruptly intensifies as some terrifying possibilities force their way into his mind.

_…Fuck. I gotta go find Nightwing._

* * *

Nightwing tucks into a somersault as he soars through the air, the thrill of flying only matched by the sheer exhilaration of the chase as he lands _hard _on the suspect. The big man, an enforcer for one of the many up-and-coming gangs in the city, goes down with a muffled groan and doesn’t get back up.

Sensing more than hearing someone else approaching, Nightwing pivots and raises his escrima sticks. He doesn’t lower them by even an inch once he sees who it is. “What do _you_ want, Hood?” He immediately regrets the somewhat overly harsh tone, which will only put the other vigilante on the defensive, but it’s kind of hard not to jump to conclusions when it comes to Hood.

_He may be working with us more than against us these days, but that doesn’t make up for everything he’s done in the past. And it _definitely _doesn’t guarantee he won’t backslide at any moment, pushed over the edge by god knows what factors and tearing through our family like a wrecking ball._

Still, he _might_ not be here to cause trouble. Maybe there’s a case of his spilling into Blüdhaven. Or the younger man might finally be ready to take him up on his open-ended offer to watch movies, eat junk food, and hang out. It’s not that he doesn’t _want _to reconcile with his miraculously revived little brother. He just has to think about all the potential consequences when something inevitably goes horrendously wrong and they’re on opposite sides of the battle lines again.

_This might not turn out horribly, just so long as it’s nothing to do with—_

“Red Robin,” Hood says, setting off all of Nightwing’s warning flags and activating his maximum protective big brother mode.

No _way_ is he just going to stand by and let his most troubled brother hurt either his other little brothers, not again. If Hood’s experiencing a recrudescence of the Pit rage and is targeting Timmy again, Nightwing is going to damn well _stop_ him, no matter what it takes.

He's not going to fail a little brother again, not _any_ of them.

“What do you want to know about him?” he asks warily, ready for crazed ranting, threats, or a fist to the face.

“Where’s he at?” The featureless red helmet and voice synthesizer give nothing away, but the big man can’t hide the tension in his posture. It just increases Nightwing’s distrust. This doesn’t bode well at all for the younger vigilante’s current mental state.

_Like hell am I telling you where Tim is just so you can go take out all your messed-up traumas on him. I’m _sorry _you went through so much, Little Wing, but that doesn’t make what you did to him okay._

“Why do you want to know?” Hood’s never taken anything but an unhealthy interest in his successor, and at this point the best strategy for keeping the peace seems to be making sure those two give each other a wide berth.

“Just something I gotta ask him about a case.” The taller man shrugs easily. Actually, he doesn’t really _seem _Pit-crazed right now.

Nightwing considers the situation carefully and then answers, not seeing the harm in doing so. “He’s on a mission off-world with his team. Why, is it something I might be able to help out with instead?” Maybe this is just a matter of Hood needing a little intel or some backup. He starts to tentatively relax, hoping his initial wariness will prove unnecessary.

“I’ve been hearing rumors about Red Robin and Ra’s al Ghul. Been trying to dig into some suspicious League activities in Gotham he might know something about, but the little shit ain’t answering his comms.”

_Okay, that sounds pretty serious. Guess that’s a decent enough reason for Hood to be seeking out Red Robin._

“Well, he’s out of communication range. Anyway, are you sure this isn’t something we should _all_ know about? If Ra’s is up to something in Gotham… Hood, you _know _Batman prefers to handle League-related cases personally.” Even as he says it, he winces, realizing a little too late this was exactly the wrong approach. Mentioning Batman is the quickest way to get the other vigilante’s back up.

Sure enough, Hood just scoffs and turns away, pulling out his grapnel. “Whatever, _Dickwing_. You like working at the Bat’s beck and call, go right ahead, but count me right the fuck _out_. I’ll figure this shit out on my own.”

As his little brother swings away into the night, Nightwing only considers for a moment before following, trailing him far enough back the other vigilante won’t notice his presence. Hood seems relatively stable at the moment, but he’d rather be _sure_, especially after the unusual interest in Red Robin’s whereabouts. Nightwing follows his brother until he drops out of sight a couple of blocks away. He alights on a rooftop nearby and edges forward to catch a glimpse of the other man.

He’s not certain what he’s expecting_—_Hood to go crazy and start shooting people in the streets? A bunch of assassins to appear out of nowhere and attack him? Maybe even Red Robin to somehow show up just in time to be brutally assaulted by Hood once more, like a scene from one of Nightwing’s darkest nightmares.

Whatever he expected, what he actually gets is so far beyond the realm of anything he might have imagined that he has to reach out and steady himself against a convenient wall, blinking hard like that will somehow change what he can’t quite believe he’s seeing.

It doesn’t.

That’s still Red Hood, slouched dejectedly against his motorcycle in the street below. That isn’t the weird part, though. No, that would definitely be the fact that Hood has pulled a tiny _Red Robin action figure_ out of his pocket and is _talking to it_. He doesn’t dare sneak close enough to try to overhear what the other man is saying, but from here the tone of voice sounds almost… _fond?_

_What the actual hell?_

* * *

Hood sighs as he leans on his bike, an irritating mixture of annoyance and guilt washing through him now that the initial burst of anger at Nightwing’s obvious suspicions has subsided. After everything, it’s getting harder and harder these days to let the rage just carry away the emotional fallout of his broken relationships. The Pit’s getting weaker, and that means Hood has to fuckin’ _deal _with the consequences of his actions under its influence.

…Which includes coping with the feelings of deep mistrust and alienation on the part of everyone he hurt during his revenge-fueled climb to power in Gotham. He gets it, seriously. It’s a very fuckin’ valid reaction to what he put the family through in his crazed, grief-stricken state.

_I just wish I knew a way to fuckin’ _fix _things so they’d give me a real chance again instead of looking at me with suspicion any time I step a toe outta line._

He frowns, hunching his shoulders a bit. He knows he doesn’t _deserve _that, not after what he did to all of them. _Especially_ Tim…

Hood pulls out the action figure again, knowing it’s dumb but unable to resist the urge. There’s something oddly freeing about being able to just _talk _openly to a version of Tim, one that won’t judge or reject him no matter what he says. “Yo, Baby Bird. Apparently, you’re safe off planet so I can quit worrying about Ra’s getting his claws into you and go back to my usual sad pining from afar.”

He sighs, looking at the tiny painted face. “Any chance the real you would ever be able to get past all the terrible shit I did when I was fucked up on the Pit?” There’s no answer, of course. He shakes his head with a chuckle. “Fuck, if only _you _could turn into a real boy. You’d go out with me, right? I mean, I did save you from that trash-heap of a warehouse, after all.”

The miniature uniform’s torn in so many places. If this were really Red Robin, he’d probably be in a world of hurt right now. Hood frowns as he carefully rubs at the exposed lower leg and forearm, thinking about what it might be like to be trusted enough to tend to the other vigilante’s wounds every time he gets hurt all the time instead of just opportunistically when they happen to run into each other while one’s bleeding out.

“I’d be so fuckin’ good to you, I swear it. I’d treat you right, just like you deserve.”

He stares at Action Tim for a long moment, then shakes it off. “Fuck it. Except for finding out where Red is, this trip was a waste of time. C’mon Little Red, we gotta get back to Gotham and back to work figuring out what the hell’s goin’ on with Ra’s. As least now I know where Red is. _Fuck, _that’s such a goddamn relief.”

His hand tightens slightly around Action Tim, drawing it protectively closer to his chest as his imagination runs wild with everything the League could _do _to someone, _would _do to Tim if he were in their power. The action figure looks so tiny and helpless in his huge hand. He strokes it reassuringly as his jaw tightens and he shudders with fury at the thought of Baby Bird undergoing any kind of torture.

He presses it to his heart for another long moment, remembering the traces of human DNA he found in the explosion and thanking _god _that Red Robin is off somewhere with his friends, and not…

Hood doesn’t allow himself to think about the worst possibilities his mind came up with during his darker moments, the ones that ended in Baby Bird _dead._

“Thought I was gonna hafta bust him outta one of the League’s bases. Thank _fuck_ he’s safe with his friends. Although I probably woulda had a hell of a time playin’ white knight for him if I had the chance… but I know damn well Red’s no damsel in distress. Hell, he’d probably have rescued _himself _by now and I’d get there just in time to watch the fireworks.”

Hood grins, then chuckles at the thought, finally in a good enough mood to throw a leg over his bike, slip Action Tim back into his pocket with a little affectionate pat, and then take off into the night. He doesn’t notice the silhouetted form step out of the shadows on a nearby rooftop to watch him go.

* * *

Nightwing continues to stare at the scene below, unable to tear his eyes away from the gradually unfolding trainwreck that is his little brother’s mental health. He blinks, then opens a channel. “…Guys? I, uh, think we have a problem over here.”

He swallows, not quite sure how to word what he is seeing. _This could be a complete mental break, or it might just be a strange reaction to some exposure he’s had recently to a new gas or pollen one of the rogues is testing. Maybe even something to do with the Pit. But why fixate on _Red Robin _like this? And for the love of _Batman, _where the heck did he get that little action figure? Did he… _buy _a Red Robin action figure for this?_

Batman and Oracle both immediately ask him what’s wrong, clearly assuming he’s run into something on patrol. He cuts them off. “Not that kind of problem. It’s Hood…” He sucks in a breath, then continues reluctantly. “He’s… not looking good. I think he needs our help to keep him from doing something he’ll regret later. He seems fixated on Red Robin again, and… Well, I’m pretty sure he’s hearing _voices _from _inanimate objects?”_

Their concerned questions wash over him as he watches Hood lift the little doll up and gently clasp it over his heart for a moment before roaring away on his motorcycle.

One eyebrow slowly rises in surprise.

_…Wow. Is it just me, or did that gesture look… oddly tender? I’m starting to think there might be a _lot _more to Hood’s feelings about Timmy than I ever suspected…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Red Hood, hanging out with action figure: ** “It’s almost like having a real boyfriend!” *Takes Action Tim for long walks on the beach, shoots thugs with it. Considers proposing*  
**Nightwing, watching all of that from afar: ** “Omg guys we have a problem here” *Thinks for a minute* “At least it’s not a blow-up doll like Lars and the Real Girl! That would get messy FAST”  
**Batman and Oracle, listening on the comms: ** “Wtf Dick why’d you have to go there” *Picture it involuntarily, wince in horror*


	3. Chapter 3

“Well, this ain’t looking good for you, Baby Bird,” Hood says to the action figure peeking out of his breast pocket, feeling a growing sense of dismay as he takes in the piles of gear scattered around Red Robin’s version of the Cave.

This… is not what he expected to find when he came over to check out the Nest to see if Red left any notes on recent League activities in Gotham. He’d been honored to be allowed access to the younger vigilante’s main base for some of their joint cases, and over the course of their time working together he’d had ample opportunity to observe the other man’s habits.

Tim isn’t always the tidiest person, but his workspace is generally impeccable between cases. While he's working in Gotham, it’s a mess of notes, empty coffee cups, energy bar wrappers, and heaps of partially processed evidence, but he always makes an effort to button everything up nice and neat before taking off to Titans Tower for a stretch with his team.

Hood has a few working theories as to why the younger vigilante is so obsessive about having his shit together whenever he goes off on a serious mission, and they’re all at least semi-disturbing. Really, though, he’s pretty sure Tim just wants to make it easier for others to pick up his cases in the depressingly plausible event he doesn’t make it back someday.

_Him and his fucking contingencies_…_ but damn it, I find his brilliant mind and crazy convoluted thought processes so fuckin’ attractive. The way he thinks of everything, the look on his cute little _face _when he’s plotting… God, he’s so sexy. Ah hell, I’m so screwed…_

If Red Robin really went for an off-world mission like Dick claimed, he would’ve made sure everything here was organized and pristine.

This is the complete opposite. Hood’s heart sinks into his shoes, the memory of that DNA analysis chugging along on his computer pushing its way to the forefront of his mind. All the fear and worry Nightwing’s assurances had temporarily muted comes roaring back, along with a new ache in his chest.

_You gotta be alive, Baby Bird… My heart can’t take it if you’re not._

“Damn it, Timmy…_ fuck_. You never left Gotham, did you?” The little action figure peeking out of his pocket doesn’t answer, of course. Still, talking to it makes him feel a little less alone as he sets to solving the mystery of his little bird’s whereabouts. “I know you can be a bit of a slob, but this ain’t like you.” He shakes his head slowly, regarding the scene. “Let’s find some clues, little buddy. I have a feeling there’s more going on here than meets the eye.”

There’s a half-packed duffle bag containing neatly folded, clean spare suits and caches of defensive weaponry, partially spilled across the floor by the computer. A pile of high-tech gadgets beside it gives a pretty good indication of what Little Red was up to before… What?

“You were planning to go on the mission with your team, but something stopped you and instead you went somewhere else. In a real fuckin’ hurry, too, by the look of things. I don’t…” He trails off as he catches sight of another laptop partially shoved under the duffel bag.

He doesn’t bother with trying to log on. Red’s security is legendary and second only to Oracle’s. Hell, he wouldn’t have even been able to get into this building if Red hadn’t added him to the approved list of visitors back when they were meeting up almost every day for a while to deal with a serial killer crossing both their territories. Having access to Red Robin’s tech for their strategy sessions just made more sense than talking on a rooftop or even in one of their burner safehouses.

Honestly, it was kind of a shock just now to discover the systems were still set to let him in. It’s a mark of trust he wouldn’t have expected from the man he once terrorized, even if he’s tried like hell to make up for it ever since he got his head out of his ass and started seeing past the green.

_Guess we’re closer to being friends now than I thought. I’m glad Baby Bird trusted me that much… fuck, _trusts _me. He’s still alive. I gotta believe that or I’m gonna fuckin’ fall apart and be no use to anyone. I ain’t giving up on him yet._

What really catches his eye is the scrap of paper sticking out of the folded laptop. Hood snags it and flips it over, snorting a laugh when he realizes what he’s looking at. He shows the receipt to the doll, shaking his head.

“What the fuck, Baby Bird? Who the hell needs a _quadruple espresso_ at _three_ in the goddamn morning? Don’t you ever fuckin’ _sleep, _you little vampire? God, you’re such a hot mess.” He pats Action Tim absentmindedly as he flips the receipt over to check the back.

“If I thought you’d let me, I would take such good care of you. Fuck, I’d cook you healthy shit, massage all that tension outta your tight little shoulders, then take _care _of you till you’re melting into the goddamn bed so satisfied you can’t do anything but fall asleep happy. Wake up the next morning and do it all again. Then make you pancakes because I know you. You fuckin’ _love _that shit.”

Hood forces himself to quit with the impossible fantasies and focus on the scrap of paper. There’s messy handwriting on the back, listing the address of the warehouse where the bombs went off, yesterday’s date with a time that matches the explosion, and a name.

_Lina. Who the fuck is that?_

“Were you looking for someone, Timmy? Is that… _fuck,_ they lured you there using someone as bait, didn’t they? Shit, those goddamn _bastards.”_

He hates the idea, but it fits with what he knows about Red Robin all too well. Pretty much any bat could get caught in that trap, actually. They’re all suckers for innocents in danger. If Tim had evidence indicating a civilian was being held at the warehouse for some reason… Of _course_ he’d go. For anyone, but especially if it was someone he knew, even circumstantially.

_Fuck, do I have to look for this Lina chick now, too?_

If she’s someone the League picked up to use as bait, the odds on her survival are pretty damn shitty. At least Red Robin is almost certainly still alive if, as appears increasingly likely, Ra’s managed to capture him at that blasted warehouse.

Even if the DNA turns out to belong to him, it’s probably just blood spatters. There’s no _way _Little Red went down without a fight, and there definitely wasn’t enough tissue there for a dead body. That fire couldn’t have gotten hot enough to burn bone, after all.

Hood ignores the fact that he knows perfectly damn well the League could have killed Tim and taken the body elsewhere. _No._

_Ra’s wants Timmy alive. He’s made that clear time and again._

He looks the receipt over once more. The address matches a coffee shop along Little Red’s usual patrol route. He’s stopped there himself a time or three to grab coffee for the other vigilante. It’s a long shot to assume this Lina person was ever anywhere near there, but at least it’s a place to start.

_This better not be a fuckin’ waste of time. If he’s in the League’s hands, every second counts._

“C’mon, Timmy, let’s go. We got a lead. Here, hold onto this for me, would ya? Thanks, Baby Bird.” Hood slips the paper in behind Action Tim, then double checks the action figure is secure and safe with a pat to his pocket before heading out.

In the end, he doesn’t have to search long or far at all. Soon after he starts asking around her neighborhood, Lina finds _him._

“You’re Red’s friend,” a soft, husky voice says from the alley behind him as he finishes up questioning some working girls. They don’t know anything about Red Robin or Lina, but they had some tips about asshole pimps he’s definitely gonna need to put in their place later.

Hood spins, hackles rising. It’s not often someone gets the drop on him, and it sets all his suspicions flaring. “Who the fuck are you?”

_Whatever she is, with moves like that, an ordinary hooker she _ain’t._ There’s no way she moved like that around Tim, or he woulda known something was up with her._

The beautiful, provocatively clad woman in front of him gives him a gentle smile, her deceptively sweet face, soft curves, and loose waves of long, dark hair at odds with the sense of danger he’s picking up from her. “I’m Lina,” she says. “News travels fast around here. I know you’re looking for me, and I decided to make your job easy.”

Well, nothing about this situation seems even _remotely _reassuring or trustworthy. _Fuckin’ perfect._ “Start talking, lady. How do you know Red, and how the hell are you involved in all this?”

“I’m the one who gave him the false lead that brought him to that warehouse.” She stops talking abruptly, and he realizes after a moment it’s because his gloved hand is locked around her delicate throat.

The only thing stopping him from ringing her pretty, lying, little neck is the knowledge that if he does, he’ll miss out on whatever other information she could supply. Well, that and a nagging suspicion that if she wanted she could break right out of his hold, no problem.

Also the whole no-kill thing, but really he considers that more of a guideline than anything. Red being in danger is sure as shit a good reason to reconsider his stance. Six months without killing is a pretty damn good streak, but a few lapses would probably be forgivable… Right? Whatever, it’s worth it if it helps save him.

“Why are you telling me this?” Hood asks once he’s sure he has himself under control. He feels her swallow beneath his hand.

“Because he’s _dead,_ my little _queridinjo_ is dead now, and it’s _my_ fault.”

Hood jerks back, letting her go as the shock of her statement ripples through him. “The fuck do you mean, dead? Red’s worth more alive to that crowd.”

_He has to be alive, he can’t be… NO._

She nods, and he sees the glimmer of tears in those soft, pained brown eyes. “I thought the same. That’s why I was willing to pass along the false tip. I thought the Demon’s Head would speak to him, set some idiotic challenge, Red would make a fool of him solving it, and we’d all go about our day.” Her voice breaks. _“Puta merda,_ if I’d ever expected…”

He crosses his arms, glaring at her. “Fucking _really?_ You sold him out to the fuckin’ _League_ and you wanna pretend you ever_ cared_ about him?”

The woman glares back just as fiercely. “I _am_ League, and have been ever since they picked me up from the slums of Rio de Janeiro when I was ten years old. The League recruits worldwide from all walks of life, but unsurprisingly it’s mostly the poor and the desperate who take them up on it. I don’t need _your _judgement.” She lifts a sardonic brow. “Believe it or not, life expectancy with the League is a hell of a lot better than I had as an orphan kid, posing as a boy to work as a soldier in one of the drug gangs of the _favela.”_

_I’ve heard plenty of sob stories before. The difference between you and the ones I actually give a fuck about is _you _apparently decided to use yours as an excuse to destroy an incredible man. One who _matters _to me, who I might even lo—nope, not thinking about that right now. Keep it together, Hood. Get the intel and solve the damn case. _Then_ fall the fuck apart._

“Well that sucks ass, but I don’t really give a shit about your B-villain origin story. How the hell’d you end up in Gotham?”

Lina laughs out loud, quick and surprised. “You’re blunt. I like it.” She sighs. “I was sent here after Robin impressed the Demon’s Head, with orders to work undercover as a prostitute and ingratiate myself with him for just such an eventuality as this.”

Fuck, Ra’s is such a piece of shit. “So, you lied to the kid and pretended to be someone he could trust.” This whole situation is reminding him way too much of his own past. A woman he thought he could trust, her betrayal, the resulting pain, an explosion, and _death_… He bites his cheek _hard _to distract himself from the green seeping into the edges of his vision.

She shakes her head. “No. It… That’s not how it happened. The night we met wasn’t planned. I was just going to flag him down sometime and give him information about clients who liked to get rough with the girls, start building up his trust. Instead…” She closes her eyes and the corners of her mouth draw down in a frown.

“There were four of them. With my training, I could have fought them off, but I was under orders not to draw attention to myself. A normal prostitute wouldn't be able to get away… so I couldn’t.”

Feeling sick, Hood hopes to god this story’s going where he thinks it is. No matter how bad someone is, he fully believes that _no one _deserves _that._

“Robin dropped into the alley before they managed to do anything. He was still so young, but he fought so hard to protect me. No one’s ever done anything like that for me before. From that very first night, I was compromised. I was glad to give him tips and talk to him over the years. Most of those tips were real, and I _swear_ the only ones that weren’t were only ever to draw him away from something the Head was working on until the time was right, or to get him in place for a meeting. Harmless.”

She swallows, eyes closing for a moment before opening, gaze hardening. “No one just _walks away _from the League. I was trapped. I made the best of what I had and did what I needed to survive, but I would _not _have set Red up to be hurt.”

“But it was different this time,” Hood says woodenly. “Seriously, why are you telling me all this?”

“I’ve seen you two together. You care about him, deeply. You have proven it now by figuring out something was wrong and making the effort to come seek me. You, and his family… You all deserve to know what happened. _He _deserves justice for what was done to him.”

_Didn't realize I was so obvious about how I feel about him. Fuck, has anyone else noticed? Naw, they’re all too emotionally constipated to pick up on that kinda thing. Wait, that ain’t even close to the most important thing right now…_

“According to your own words it’s _your_ fuckin’ fault he was even there instead of safe flying around in space kicking ass with his goddamn team!”

She bares her teeth at him. “If I’d even suspected… I watched that brave little boy grow up into a good man! I would _never_ have knowingly sent him to his death.”

There's a lump in his throat. “Why are you so sure he’s dead?” he manages after a moment, hating this, _hating_ that her story rings so true that he believes her against his will.

There’s pity in those lovely dark eyes. “Oh, _Gato,”_ she says sadly, “I heard it over the lines. The Demon’s Head offered him a choice: take his place at his side, or burn. Red Robin chose to burn.”

* * *

Jason’s not quite sure how he made it back to his safehouse. When he finally gets a grip, he finds himself curled up, back to the wall, Action Tim clutched to his chest as tears stream down his cheeks. His helmet’s on the floor beside him, and he doesn’t know what the fuck to do.

_It’s not like Tim and I ever could have _been _anything, but… I cared about him. He deserved so fuckin’ much better than _this.

“God _damn _it,” he whispers, voice choked. _“Fuck!”_ The action figure in his hands in its tattered cape and costume just reminds him of how Tim must have looked when he was hurt.

When he _died._

“Jesus Christ, I’m so fuckin’ _sorry,_ Timmy. I woulda… I woulda done _anything _to keep this from happening to you. Fuck, _fuck… _You deserved better, Baby Bird. Deserved to be appreciated and taken care of by someone, live a long life with the chance to use all your fuckin’ _amazing _talents to keep doing good.” He sits up, rubbing a hand over his eyes and sniffling loudly. “Damn, I’m a mess. I need to pull myself together, figure out what to do about this shit.”

That ripped cowl is really bothering him, so he pulls out the little sewing kit he keeps in his gear to do quick patches in the field if something rips and he just needs it intact enough to get him through the night. “Jesus, you look like crap, Little Red. How’s about I take care of that, huh?” The action figure just stares silently back at him in what he’d like to imagine is sympathy.

He carefully threads a needle, then gently cups the doll in one hand to hold it still while he sews the ripped cowl back together with the small, neat stitches Alfred taught him. Those skills have served him so well during the many times he’s had to patch himself up. It feels like as long as he’s taking care of the action figure, he’s somehow taking care of Tim as well.

Which is so many kinds of fucked up, he doesn’t even want to _think _about it right now. So he doesn’t.

“You were so fuckin’ _good, _Tim,” he whispers after a moment. “I didn’t see it at first, couldn’t see _anything _through the green and the bullshit Talia fed me about you. But once the Pit started to finally lose its grip and I could breathe again, of fuckin’ _course _I noticed how goddamn brilliant and talented you were. You always seemed to have your shit together, but you weren’t conceited about it. If anything, you were too fucking self-sacrificing, and just look at where _that _got you.”

He laughs then, an ugly, raw thing as he finishes patching the cowl and starts in on the little cape. The stupid action figure is wet and he isn’t sure why until another fat tear falls and lands directly on it.

_Fuck, I’m really losing it now._

Jason blinks his vision clear and then keeps sewing, hands shaking a little but physically unable to stop because he can’t fucking _do _a goddamn thing for Tim now. It’s too late.

This dumb doll is all he has, and by god he’s going to do right by it even if that means he’s finally completely nuts.

“And you had no idea how goddamn _beautiful _you were, did you? Seeing you take on a crowd in a fight, the way you _moved… _God. The things I woulda done to you if you’d only asked. Hell, if you’d just_ looked _at me the right way…”

That’s not a productive line of thought. If those dreams were a bad idea before, they’re sure as shit a _terrible _idea now that Timmy’s… _gone._

“Baby Bird, you deserved better. Better than dying like _this, _fuckin’ betrayed and blown up in a goddamn warehouse_—”_ He chokes for a moment, hands stilling in their motions on the action figure, and then continues more softly as he finishes patching up the other holes in the legs of the uniform.

“…Better than _me.”_

The tattered uniform looks a lot better now, with no remaining visible holes. He imagines the little Tim-face looks a bit happier now, too, although that’s definitely just projection. “I was never gonna make a move on you, y’know. Figured you’d never want me after all the shit I did when I was crazy, and you’d sure as _hell _never trust me enough to be in a relationship together even if you did want me for a night or whatever. But now…”

Jason swallows around the lump in his throat, closing his eyes against the sting of more tears. “I wish I’d just said somethin’ when I had the chance. Because whatever you deserved, it sure as shit ain’t what you got, and even _I _woulda been better for you than _this.”_

He looks at the little Red Robin action figure resting on his palm. It’s clean and patched now, and it doesn’t fuckin’ _matter, _because he can’t do the same for the real Tim. If Lina’s to be believed, there wasn’t even enough left for _Ra’s _to bring back, with all his resources. How the fuck is Jason supposed to do better? He’s just gotta _deal _with the fact that Baby Bird is _gone._

Jason bares his teeth in a grimace. He should just throw this shit away now. It’s just _trash. _They’re a dime a dozen in Gotham, and this one’s been through a damn explosion. It isn’t worth keeping.

_Why the hell am I still holding onto this? It’s not healthy. I should fucking get rid of it and forget about all this. Ain’t like anything in my life _ever _went well before. I don’t know why the hell I thought things would change now._

_“Damn it,” _he whispers. His hand tightens on Action Tim for a moment, then relaxes. “Well, I can’t save you, Baby Bird, and I am _so _fuckin’ sorry for that. But there’s one thing I can still do for you. I can sure as hell make it so everyone who had a hand in your death fucking _pays _for it.”

He feels his face stretch into a mean grin and gives a mirthless laugh. “And I think I know just what to do to get some help on that front, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Jason, looking for Tim: ** “Hey there lady you seen this guy?” *Holds up Action Tim*  
**Lina, dabbing at eyes: ** “Yep. You guys woulda made a cute couple, too bad he’s dead”  
**Jason, falling to his knees and clutching Action Tim to his chest like the world’s biggest drama queen: ** “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—” *Pauses to take a huge breath* “—OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”  
**Lina, staring at Action Tim with fascinated revulsion: ** “Wait wtf, is that a doll of him? Is this a coping thing?” *Pokes at doll*  
**Jason, tears streaming down his face: ** *Clutches Tim-doll possessively closer* “He’s an ACTION FIGURE!” *Flounces off to mourn in private without such a judging audience*


	4. Chapter 4

“Oh my _god._ How long has this been going on?” Dick stares in shock at the Batcomputer screens, each displaying recordings from various traffic and security cameras around the city. The footage is at odd angles and doesn’t include audio, but then again, that doesn’t seem to be necessary. It’s pretty obvious what’s going on, even if it’s hard to believe.

In every shot, Red Hood and Red Robin are together, taking down criminals, smiling and laughing as they take breaks, even sharing food. It’s insane. If anyone had asked before tonight, he would have sworn those two had _never _worked together except grudgingly, in the company of at least one of the other Bats to act as a mediator.

This was _definitely _not on his radar. Based on the footage, they’ve clearly been spending time together on a frequent basis. Many of the interactions appear to be far more casual or social than work-related, despite their being in uniform.

He watches the change in Hood’s body language in one sequence as Red Robin lands on the rooftop at his side, bearing a bag of what he recognizes as Jason’s favorite takeout. The big man perks up as soon as he catches sight of the younger vigilante, clearly totally focused on the other man who is grinning and _blushing. _Their shoulders bump as they move to sit on a ledge and share the meal, hands touching as they distribute the food in the bag.

There are countless clips of the pair, including multiple shots of Hood disappearing _into Tim’s home _with him_, _staying there for several hours, and then departing with what Dick _strongly_ suspects is a very satisfied grin on his face under that red helmet.

What’s going on between the pair is obvious from the way Red Robin’s entire focus fixes on Hood, the fact that the taller man’s body automatically curls protectively around the smaller when startled, and a thousand other tiny details which present a startlingly clear picture to Dick. He _knows _what both of these men look like when they’re around a neutral party, coworker, friend, or lover.

And _this _behavior_… _very clearly falls under that last category. They’re obvious in a relationship with each other. He watches on a screen as Red Robin stumbles a landing in an alley and Red Hood reaches out to catch him before falling to his knees at his side and tenderly checking what looks like a knife wound in his leg. His big gloved hand gently strokes the injured man’s other calf, soothing.

How on earth did they manage to _hide _it for so long?

_They’ve been dating. Oh dear lord, Tim and Jason have been _dating _each other for god knows how long, and we’re only finding out now because apparently Jason’s going off the deep end. Wait… This _kind of_ explains whatever the heck is going on with that doll a little, while at the same time not explaining _anything _because really, what the _hell_, Jay?_

Batman’s deep growl interrupts his increasingly chaotic thoughts. “So far, evidence suggests Red Hood and Red Robin have been engaged in what appears to be a romantic entanglement for at least two months.” The man is staring at the screens broodingly, fingers moving over the keyboard as he opens additional files to study them carefully.

_Ugh, Batdad watching them on their dates. I do _not _envy those two the level of scrutiny they’re about to encounter. Although at this point, they seem to be doing surprisingly well together. I bet they might even manage to avoid the lecture on how they’re bad for each other that would’ve come down on them if we’d found out about this at the start of… whatever’s going on between them._

“Okay… so apparently Tim and Jason are _dating _each other. That’s crazy and I have a lot of thoughts about it, but let’s set those aside for now. How does this play into what happened earlier?” Dick frowns, genuinely worried for his younger brother’s mental health. “Jason didn’t seem to _know _Tim was off world… Do you think they had a fight or something before he left?”

Batman’s glare intensifies as he stares at the screens, looking for all the world as though he expects to find the answers to all of life’s questions if he just glowers at them long enough. “Whether his delusion was triggered by the Pit, an outside influence such as exposure to mind-altering drugs, some altercation within their relationship, Tim’s departure destabilizing Jason’s always-precarious mental health, or some combination of any number of those factors, it is of utmost importance we track Hood down as soon as possible. We need to contain him until such time as we verify the cause, duration, and solution to his current state.”

_Great… that’s going to be a nightmare, I can already tell. Getting Jason to do anything when he doesn’t want to is a challenge at the best of times. When he’s unstable? Yeah, not gonna happen without a fight._

“Well, let me know once Oracle tracks him down. The important thing is making sure _he’s safe,”_ Dick says, emphasizing the words because he knows what Bruce is like when he gets deep into the mission. He knows, too, how much the older man will regret it later if he allows himself to be carried away in his zeal to defend the world to the point that he hurts someone he loves. It’s happened before, and it will happen again, but Dick will do everything in his power to protect his little brothers, _all _of them.

But Batman isn’t paying attention to him anymore. He’s looking over his shoulder, toward the Cave entrance. “…I don’t believe that will be necessary,” he says, sounding almost stunned.

Dick turns to follow his gaze, and his eyes widen in shock at the sight which greets him. Red Hood himself is rushing toward them, helmet tucked under his arm and face alarmingly grief-stricken. He’s so concerned at his brother’s obvious distress that he barely even notices the tiny doll peeking out of his jacket pocket. They clearly have bigger things to worry about right now.

“Jay, what’s wrong?” He reaches out, wanting to help but not knowing where to even _start_.

“Everything,” he whispers, plopping his helmet down beside the Batcomputer and quickly plugging it in, dismissing all the various clips playing on the screens without even looking at them. His voice breaks as he types in a command. “Watch this.”

* * *

The Cave is completely silent in the moments after the recording from Hood’s helmet cam finishes playing, Lina’s final words about Tim’s grim fate echoing through the stillness as even the ever-present bats overhead fall quiet as though in respect for the fallen hero. The results of the DNA analysis for the material samples from the warehouse are on one of the other screens, along with a picture of Timmy showing the goddamn match.

Dick is pale, staring at the screen in stunned horror, mouth fallen open as though to issue a denial. There’s agonized pain and disbelief showing in every line of his posture like he’s just been shot.

Jason winces at the sight._ Fuck, I hate seeing him like this. His temper’s a fuckin’ _bitch,_ but he’ll be a hell of a lot easier to deal with once the anger hits. At least I know how to handle _that.

He looks away from his older brother’s grief and accidentally makes eye contact with the brat, who showed up while the footage was playing. Damian blinks rapidly and turns away, looking painfully small and young all of a sudden. He has a crazy urge to protect the kid, just scoop him up in his arms and take him somewhere far away from here and the fucked-up nature of their lifestyle.

_I guess Demon Brat cared about Timmy too, under all the sass and rivalry_. _Fuck, of _course _he did. Baby Bird had a way of growin’ on people, even the ones who started out hating his guts. He was just a damn good person. He didn’t deserve this._

He avoids looking directly at Bruce, but it doesn’t matter. He still hears the harsh intake of breath, sees the minute clenching of fists out of the corner of his eye, and feels the tension in the other man as whatever storm of emotions he’s suppressing plays out silently within.

“I’m going to kill him,” Dick’s terrifyingly calm voice breaks the silence and Jason’s almost _relieved_ to turn to him and see the growing rage in his face and stance chasing away the painfully lost look from before.

“He is _my_ grandfather. As it is clear he has finally gone too far, it is my duty and _right _to exact retribution for his crimes.” Baby Bat’s glowering ferociously and baring his teeth like he wants to use them to rip out the old bastard’s throat.

_Hell, maybe he does. That kid can be fuckin’ _vicious _when he’s crossed. And apparently Bats count as family more than the damn assassins who raised him. I can respect that._

“I’m in,” he says, because fuck it, he was going after Ra’s anyway; why not take the backup? Both Dickie and the kid look livid enough to set aside Batmans fuckin’ code, or at least look the other way while _he _does what he must.

_“None_ of you are going after Ra’s,” Bruce growls, because he's a sanctimonious _asshole_ who doesn’t fuckin’ _get_ human emotions. Jason inhales, preparing to rip the douchebag a new one before the man’s next words take the wind right out of his sails. “I will deal with him myself.” There’s rage and pain in those eyes, and a level of wild, furious _intent_ he’s never seen in the usually meticulously controlled Bat.

_Holy fuckin’ shit. Is this what he was like when _I _died? A few years ago I woulda never believed it, but since then I’ve heard a lot of stories from Baby Bird about those days_.

Jason opens his mouth to argue, then rolls his eyes because of fucking _course _Batman just pulled the cowl on and is striding away from them. _“Really?_ You’re just gonna walk away right now? What the _fuck _is supposed to stop us from _following _you, idiot?”

Batman halts in his tracks. Without turning, he says in a dark, gravelly voice, “Don’t.” At their continued protests, he finally turns, jaw clenched, and grinds out, “I can’t risk losing any of _you, _as well!” Softer, as he turns away again, he whispers, “Please, don’t make me.”

Glancing back over his shoulder and nailing Jason with an agonized stare, he breathes, lips barely moving, “Not again.”

No one stops him as he leaves. And when Jason finally recovers enough from his shock to move to follow, none of the fucking doors respond to his codes. “That bastard locked us in the fuckin’ Cave!” He punches a wall in fury, and then immediately regrets it.

“Patience, brother. If Father fails to exact vengeance for Drake now, we may always seek it ourselves at a later time.” The kid’s voice is oddly calm, and Jason and Dick both turn in surprise at the unusually level-headed response from the boy.

The kid’s sitting at the Batcomputer, working on a detailed plan to take down Ra’s. There are already multiple steps and Jason spots Dick wincing in growing horror as he reads them over.

He grins darkly. “Move over, Brat. What you got ain’t bad so far, but I got a few ideas to add—”

Whatever Bats does to Ra’s, it won’t be enough. But maybe that’s okay. After all, they always say vengeance is a dish best served cold. And missing Timmy hurts like a goddamn _bitch, _but Dick’s always after him to spend more time with the kid for family bonding or whatever.

Behind them, Dick facepalms.

* * *

The corridors are far emptier than they should be and the level of resistance is well below what Batman would expect for a base of this size, let alone one in which the Demon’s Head is currently in residence. It is obvious that his visit was anticipated and that would most likely be concerning if he were in any state to care about the consequences to himself.

He tears through what opposition there is, pounding assassins into the walls and floor with powerful, bruising punches, and finds himself wishing there were more of them. This is nowhere near enough to exhaust his current level of _rage._

His initial fury and grief at losing one of his children _again,_ and in circumstances so similar to the first time one of his was murdered, was sufficient to carry him this far. As he approaches the throne room, he finally calms down sufficiently to regain the clarity of mind to wonder if he’s stepped into a trap.

_Ra’s may have never quite given up on making me his heir. Is it possible he sacrificed Red Robin in order to bring me here instead? If so… I will annihilate him._

Batman cannot dismiss the possibility, but regardless of the supervillain’s intent, _he_ will be walking away the victor from tonight’s encounter. His contingency plans against al Ghul and the League have been in place for some time, merely awaiting sufficient impetus to set them into play. And _oh, _has Ra’s finally provided it.

_If I could feel anything but numb emptiness right now, I think I might enjoy what is coming next._

He’s on his guard as he enters the dimly lit, opulently appointed chamber.

“Detective,” the silky, hateful voice purrs from atop a high throne. “I have been expecting you for some time. I’m afraid the tea has grown quite cold. Losing your touch a trifle, are you? I had anticipated your arrival several hours ago.”

“Ra’s,” he growls. “I’m not here to play your _games.”_

The other man tuts chidingly, raising a sardonic eyebrow. “Who said anything about games? I was merely attempting to be a good host; however, if you prefer, we may skip directly to the purpose of your unannounced visit.”

All of Batman’s fury and grief boils up and pours out as carefully targeted and calculated vitriol, aimed at every weak spot the man before him has ever shown.

“I am here to inform you of the recent development of a chemical agent which neutralizes the waters of the Lazarus Pit. It acts to disrupt the active Lazarin compounds, preventing any effects on human flesh via immersion, imbibement, inhalation or injection. Effectively, this will render the Lazarus Pit functionally inert.”

_It is unfortunate the compound still isn’t ready for internal human testing; otherwise, I might be able to inject him with it to counter the slightly elevated strength and healing factor left by his multiple immersions in the Pit. Of course, I initially developed it in an attempt to help _Jason_ overcome the insanity induced by his exposure to the chemicals. The ability to negate Ra’s al Ghul’s immortality is secondary. _

_If only there had been a vial ready in the Cave when I left, I could have advanced the human trials portion of the testing to right _now.

The ancient man’s expression has grown colder throughout his entire speech, and when he speaks his voice is measurably tighter. “I see. And how, pray tell, do you intend to _utilize _this supposed substance? Surely you must know there are numerous Pits of which I alone know the location.”

“Are you so certain of that?” Batman relishes the twitch which betrays the other man’s doubts. “You call me the Detective. Are you_ truly_ willing to bet your immortality on my inability to locate every single one of the world’s Lazarus Pits?”

He presses his advantage, growling, “Are you so certain I haven’t _already _planted capsules containing the neutralizing agent in each of your pools, ready to be released at a moment’s notice? _Call my bluff. _I want to see the look on your face when you realize you’re a dead man walking.”

The villain before him steeples his fingers beneath his chin, expression furious but with a jarring trace of what looks almost like _sympathy_. “The boy is not dead.”

At al Ghul’s words, Batman experiences a moment of vertigo before rationality descends and he regains control. “You’re lying. Telling me what I want to hear will not spare your Pits. And while I am sure you will find the confines of a normal human lifetime constraining beyond your current understanding, nothing you can say will convince me to act otherwise.”

“Perhaps what I can _show _you, then?”

Before Batman has a chance to respond, the Demon’s Head gestures and footage begins playing on the screens covering the nearest wall. From the moment he spots Red Robin in what can only be his final moments, he cannot force his attention away.

There’s fighting, his former Robin holding his own well enough while vastly outnumbered, before Ra’s intervenes and the expected back and forth banter ensues. Batman’s analytical mind notes in passing the amount of blood likely to have spilled from the numerous small wounds visible on the boy’s body would certainly account for the samples Red Hood collected at the scene. A quiver of hope stirs in his heart and he mercilessly quells it.

It’s only when the League of Assassins villain issues his ultimatum that the encounter deviates from the anticipated script. Red Robin rejects him, the room fills with smoke… and then the slim form holding the bo-staff _disappears _the moment before the explosion occurs and the recording cuts out.

“Play it again,” he growls, knowing he’s giving in to impossible hope and allowing Ra’s to lead him down the garden path and simply _not caring, _not right now, when there’s a ghost of a chance his _son _might still be alive.

He’s missed a son returning from the dead once before, to the detriment of everyone in their family. He will not make the same mistake twice.

Silently, Ra’s plays it again. And again.

“I have had this footage analyzed by our best and most knowledgeable technicians, magicians, and wise men. None can explain the young Detective’s disappearance with certainty, although multiple theories have been presented including teleportation via technology or spells, time travel, or even transformation. We have been unable to identify a mechanism for any of these actions; however, knowing the young Detective, I would not count him out just yet.”

“Give this to me.” He can’t stop watching. A new mission is forming in his mind. After all, when _he _was pronounced dead, Tim walked through _hell _to solve the mystery and bring him back, succeeding despite the mountain of evidence against him including the presence of a very convincing dead body.

There’s not even a body this time, and the evidence which seemed so insurmountable when a desperate, grieving Hood tore into the Cave and threw it down in front of them is beginning to look ambivalent at most.

_I’ll find you, son, and bring you home. And then we’ll work together to figure out what is causing Hood’s delusions, and I will give the two of you my blessing. If anything, this experience has reminded me that life is too short. I am glad you have managed to find happiness together, even if you believed you had to hide it from me. I will not give you reason to regret my finding out._

Batman considers, and then makes the decision not to tell any of the others about the possibility of Tim’s survival until he finds proof. Doing otherwise would give them hope, yes, but also expose them to the potentially devastating anguish of hope lost should he fail. Better to deal with it himself, and weather the fallout later.

“You may have this copy. I would prefer the Detective be found soon, alive and well. After all, he is one of a very few I have encountered over my long lifetime who present sufficient challenge and unpredictability to be interesting. I do hate a _waste.”_

Batman pauses, remembering a few disturbing innuendos which caught his attention during the recording. He had deemed them a lower priority than his son’s apparently imminent death, but now… “This doesn’t mean our discussion is over,” he says as the other man pauses in his attempt to slip out and leave him alone in the chamber. “Whatever the _hell _you think you were doing with Red Robin, it won’t happen again. Once we get him back… If you touch him… If you even _talk _to him again. I will know. And I will _destroy _your immortality.”

Ra’s narrows his eyes, regarding him contemplatively. “And then what? You do not kill. It is your greatest weakness. You’ll merely _watch _as I seduce him to my side anyway. Clipping his wings and taking him by force has failed, I will freely admit; however, I am certain he will eventually fall to my _enticements, _regardless.”

He’s almost physically sick at the thought and has to pause for a moment to swallow his gorge. _Tim has been dealing with _this, _on his own? For how long? How did I not _realize _how bad this had gotten?_

Batman shakes his head once, then smirks darkly as he considers Red Hood’s likely response to any further attempts to harm his romantic partner.

_I still don’t approve of Jason killing, but… sometimes a _threat _is more than sufficient._

“No. Bats don’t kill… but there are other ways to discourage your unwanted… _attentions_… to Red Robin. While you will most likely _survive _the violent removal of certain _portions_ of your body, I doubt you will enjoy the process, or the fact that without the Pit you will be unable to regenerate your missing anatomy.”

He glares at the other man, who despite his efforts to hide it is visibly shaken, flinching when he _growls,_ “Stay the _hell _away from my _son.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Dick, staring at footage of Tim and Jason hanging out: ** *Immediately leaps to drastically wrong conclusion* “They’re daaaaating! Omg this is weird, but so much better than Jason dating a blow-up doll!”  
**Bruce, unable to look at screen for more than five seconds: ** “Hn” *Attempts to forget any of his children are sexual beings. Fails, fights gag reflex*  
**Jason, bursting into Cave melodramatically while clutching Tim-doll: ** “Ra’s murdered the fuck outta Timmy, let’s go shove some justice down that creepy fucker’s throat” *Tries to open door to lead angry brothers out of Cave* “Wait wtf is this locked? Hey, where the fuck is B?”  
*  
**Batman, menacing Ra’s with sketchy chemicals: ** “Get over here so I can splash you with this!”  
**Ra’s, skittering away across the floor like a cockroach: ** *Hisses* “Desist, you fool! Your most delectable, lithesome, and beauteous son still lives!” *Licks his lips in seriously creepy manner*  
**Batman, staring at Ra’s in horror: ** “Wtf” *Punches Ra’s in the face, considers for a moment. Sprinkles some anti-youth water on his crotch. Nods in satisfaction, leaves to go find Tim*


	5. Chapter 5

Dick hesitates a moment at the dingy apartment door, hand hovering uncertainly ready to knock. Sometimes it seems like all the time he’s spent entering buildings covertly through windows has made him forget how to actually knock like a regular civilian. He’d definitely feel a lot more comfortable if he were Nightwing right now, but he figured confronting his grieving brother would be _way_ less potentially explosive if they face each other as Dick and Jason instead of Nightwing and the Red Hood.

The other man took off like a bat out of hell the moment Bruce finally returned and lifted the lockdown. Of course, he had immediately turned to the Batcomputer and predictably refused to answer any of their questions except to say that Ra’s was neutralized and they should stay away from him.

_I’m glad I managed to at least wrangle out a confession about the chemical compound he made to destroy the Lazarus Pits, or I don’t think any of us would have calmed down enough to let it go. Knowing there’s actually something in place to punish Ra’s helps, but… Losing Timmy still hurts so bad. And how much _worse _must it be for poor Jason, having been in a romantic relationship with him when he died?_

In the end, he doesn’t actually have to knock. The door swings open and a grumpy-looking Jason drags him inside by his collar. “The fuck do _you_ want, Dickhead?” The big man glances down at the bulky, aromatic bag tucked in the crook of one of Dick’s arms. He sniffs and then raises an eyebrow. “Why do I smell Alfie’s meatloaf? That a bribe or something?”

Looking over the taller man’s casual attire, he quickly spots the telltale little cowled head peeking out of his sweatshirt pocket. It’s simultaneously so cute and so sad. How in the world did they _miss _this for however long? And what can they possibly do to make things right at this point?

_We can never give Timmy the acceptance and support he deserved for his romantic relationship, but at least we can do our best for Jason. And his delusion or whatever it is that’s going on with that toy makes a lot more sense in light of everything. Obviously, he already knew something was horribly wrong with Tim. It was too much for him to bear, and so he started talking to the doll… which, okay, is pretty messed up, but if that’s what he needs to deal with his grief then we’ll just have to support him as best we can._

Dick tilts his head, then nods, shrugging. “Kinda? Alfred’s been stress-baking and he wanted to send some stuff to you. I just volunteered to bring it over.”

Jason’s eyes light up a bit at the mention of Alfred’s name and he confiscates the bag, digging through it and making pleased noises at all the goodies the kindly old man sent before looking up with a frown. “Okay, well… Tell Alfie thanks I guess.” His brother’s tone is not welcoming in the slightest, and any faint hopes he harbored about being invited to stay for a while evaporate in the face of that glower.

He stares at Dick for an expectant minute, frown deepening as he apparently realizes he is making no move to leave. “Don’t you know how to take a goddamn hint? I’m not in the mood for company right now, so get lost.”

_Oh, Jason,_ Dick thinks, heart breaking at his little brother believing he has to face his grief alone because the family won’t understand or accept the kind of relationship he had with Tim.

_Well, I’ll show him that’s just not true._

“We don’t think you should be alone right now, Little Wing.” He hesitates at the confused but still belligerent expression on the other man’s face, and figures it’s time to lay all his cards on the table.

_Here’s hoping this goes well._

Considering this particular brother’s well-known volatility of temperament, he’ll be more than satisfied if this conversation ends with both of them conscious and relatively unharmed. Bonus if none of the furniture ends up broken.

“We know about the Tim-doll, Jason.”

“Action figure,” Jason snaps, correcting him on autopilot before apparently registering exactly what Dick said. Something akin to horror passes over his face. “I can explain_—_” he begins desperately, looking like that’s the absolute last thing he wants to do.

“There’s no need. We get it. It’s a grief thing, right? Transference or whatever. You were the only one who suspected something was wrong with Tim, so until you gathered the proof to convince the rest of us, you were on your own. And it was even _worse_ for you once you found proof of…” Dick swallows, unable to bring himself to say it. Every time he tries, a tsunami of pain and regret for his lost little bird sweeps through him and carries away all his words.

Jason must understand, because he nods for him to continue, a frown growing on his tired face.

“…Anyway. We _all _love and miss him, but it was different for you, and it must have been _so hard_ for you not to show what you were truly feeling in front of us. We have some idea of how you guys were meeting up in secret, although we still aren’t sure how long you guys had been dating each other… But _god,_ Jason, whatever you thought, whatever made you _afraid_ of letting everyone know…”

His brother, who’s been staring at him with an utterly gobsmacked expression, lets out a pained-sounding groan at his words. His brow furrows in sympathy at what the younger man must be feeling right now, his heart already so torn by loss and now finding his deepest secrets on display. He reaches out to pat him comforting on the shoulder, needing the physical connection to reaffirm how much he cares.

“I mean, I can _understand _why you would have worried. Before these last couple of days, I _would _have reacted badly to finding out you guys were together. I mean, your history with him was… well, awful, really. But it’s impossible to miss how broken up you are about losing him, and I know exactly how desperate you were to try to find him. I _know_ how much he mattered to you.”

Dick shakes his head slowly. “We might not have supported you if this all had come out before, and that sucks. I’m _so _sorry you thought you had to hide your love and that we didn’t find out about your relationship until it was too late for us to _be_ there for both of you.”

Jason’s blushing and shaking his head as though in futile denial of Dick’s words. “Dickie, we weren’t—”

_Damn your obstinance, Jason, why can’t you just let me _help?

Dick takes a deep breath, squeezing his brother's shoulder. “Jay… Did you love him?” _Please just be honest. You can trust me with the truth._

And his little brother’s eyes fill with tears as the big shoulder beneath his hand shudders. “Yeah,” he whispers hoarsely, breaking his heart again. “I did.”

Dick reaches out and pulls him into a hug, tears prickling his own eyes. He holds him as he cries for what he’s lost. _I’m so sorry, Jay and Timmy… so very sorry. This should never have happened._

* * *

Jason goes back to the Cave with Dick. He’s not sure what the hell is going on right now or how the _fuck _the rest of the family apparently got the idea that he and Tim were a _thing _before he died, but being able to grieve and show his feelings openly around the others is weirdly _freeing. _He’s not quite ready to give that up just yet by telling them the truth.

The acceptance the whole gang is taking pains to show for the relationship that never was is both awkward as fuck and strangely touching.

Especially when Bruce lays a hand on his shoulder and tells him he’s proud of how he solved the mystery of Red Robin's disappearance. He says he’s glad Tim had happiness with Jason, even if only for a short time. “I _want _you to be happy, son. I would take all your pain on myself if it were possible.”

_Fucking drama queen, any excuse to be all dark and broody,_ Jason thinks. He tries to ignore the warm feeling which suffuses his chest at the heartfelt words from the man who’s long been the best father figure he’s ever had, even with all the bullshit between them over the years.

Everyone pointedly avoids mentioning the action figure in his pocket because apparently, they think he went just mildly off his rocker with grief at the death of his fuckin’ _lover. _They want to give him space and time to cope in whatever way he needs, even if it involves talking to a children’s toy shaped like the dead man they all erroneously think was his boyfriend.

_Fuck, they’re probably glad I’m just talking to inanimate objects instead of shooting shit and going on a killing rampage._

Dick is careful and overly solicitous, Alfred keeps plying him with all his old favorite snacks, and Bruce tries in his own bumbling way. The man manages to say the exact wrong thing only half the time, which sad to say is a marked improvement from his usual. Even Damian treats Jason like a damn war widow or something. Watching the brat try his utmost to suppress his innate rudeness and then predictably fail is goddamn _hilarious _and he just wishes Tim were here to see it. Baby Bird would laugh his ass off at that shit.

_God _damn,_ I’m so fucked up._

Jason _really_ needs to tell them the truth. He should’ve done it the_ second_ he realized what the hell Dick was babbling on about back at the safehouse. He chalks the fact he didn’t immediately correct his brother’s misapprehension up to his initial shock at how the Bats could possibly have gotten everything so damn _wrong._

_Family of detectives my fine, toned ass, _he thinks bitterly.

And then, the way everyone was treating him so _nice,_ like his feelings mattered… Having everyone know he was in love with Tim and just accept it was a _huge_ validation of his feelings, something he never expected after all the pain and muddled mess he made of his life.

But it’s not fair to Tim’s memory to let everyone go on believing this lie, and he’ll _definitely_ tell them all the truth. Just as soon as he figures out _how._

Jason’s saved from his circular reflections by a chiming notification on the Batcomputer and the almost simultaneous sounds of multiple phones going off at once.

“I’m getting texts from Beast Boy and Raven.” Dick’s face falls as he glances over the messages on his phone. “B, they’re asking about Tim.”

“I, too, am being contacted by the Titans. I was not aware Impulse even _had _this number.” Damian makes a face as his phone chimes to indicate incoming text messages so many times in a row it’s almost like listening to one continuous tone.

Bruce clears his throat. “And it appears I am being contacted by Superboy and Wonder Girl. Red Robin likely provided our contact information to his team as a contingency measure in the event of his being… incapacitated.” His words hang heavily in the air, a painful reminder of what’s happened. What they’ve _lost._

“They’re back early from their mission. Do,” Jason’s tongue feels thick and stupid. “Do they _know?”_

With how fast everything’s been moving, Tim’s team being out of contact, and how paranoid the Bats _all _are when it comes to sharing information, he somehow doubts any of them thought to send a message to Baby Bird’s friends.

Bruce frowns at his own phone. “I informed the Justice League, and it appears various members took it upon themselves to pass the information along to the Titans despite the interruption to their current mission.” He sounds mildly annoyed with this evidence of others exercising their free will outside his control and acting like actual goddamn _human beings_.

_Suck it, Bats. People are never gonna be entirely predictable, even to you. Maybe _especially _to you, ya goddamn robot. _He shakes his head, horrified at the rising fondness he feels for the awkward, annoying older man.

“Well, then I guess we can expect visitors soon.” Dick has barely finished speaking when with a rush of wind the Titans are standing before them, expressions showing varying degrees of disbelief, grief, and horror.

No one even twitches at their appearance. Meta powers like flight, superspeed, and teleportation just aren’t enough to impress a Bat.

“What happened?” Superboy’s demand for information sounds furious and the guy looks ready to kill. Jason’s definitely getting a vibe like the super’s not going to be very particular about the target, either, if someone doesn’t start talking right the fuck _now_.

“I find it very difficult to believe the story we were given. Red Robin always, _always _has a plan and I can’t believe he’s gone, not like _this.”_ Wonder Girl’s voice is controlled and steady in comparison. Only a certain tension in her face and stance betray the underlying fear that her faith may be misplaced and she’s about to lose another friend.

_Fuck, these kids have been through the ringer, haven’t they? They don’t deserve this shit either; _none _of us do. Especially not Tim. Goddamn it…_

“Cassie’s right, Rob _always_ has a plan even when it’s super crazy and involved and he doesn’t _tell _anyone all the details like that one time with the interdimensional aliens that got into the Tower and he made all this coffee and wouldn’t tell us what it was for and _we_ thought he was going to drink it all and _die _but then he put it in these super-powerful squirt guns and we used it to disable the aliens because apparently their biology was weak to caffeine and _really, _like Rob couldn’t just _tell us _that? But apparently the risk of them finding out his plan was just too great or whatever. Yeah _right, _I’m pretty sure he was just having too much fun making us worry _he _was going to drink all that coffee and give himself cardiac arrest. Rob’s such a _troll _sometimes. Okay, like _all _the time; he’s the _king _of trolls. So _not_ crash, man. But anyway the point is he probably had some contingency in place no one even _knows _about, and no matter _what_ you say, we’re not going to stop looking for him because he’s our best friend and our team is a family and you don’t walk away from _family_.”

Beast Boy blinks at the onslaught, then nods once, firmly.

_What the fuck? I didn’t even get _half _of what that kid just said. God _damn, _it’s like listening to an over-caffeinated squirrel having a seizure._

Impulse finally stops talking, possibly because he finally has to take a breath, but more likely because Raven looks like she has something she wants to say.

Her dark eyes are fixed on Jason, an expression of dawning hope lighting them as she inhales a quick, startled breath. No, wait… She’s not looking at _him_, she’s staring at his… _pocket? What the fuck?_

_Oh fuck,_ he thinks, mixed apprehension and a singing hope beginning to fill him as his heart rate picks up with a kick of adrenaline. _The goddamn Tim-doll?_

God, this better be what he thinks it is, or the letdown of disappointment is going to fucking _destroy _him.

“He’s _here,”_ she murmurs, smiling. “I wasn’t even sure he had it _with _him. He’d mentioned it as a possibility in passing once, and I had hoped—but from the way the explosion was described, I wasn’t sure he would have been able to trigger the spell. Even then, the chances of the doll surviving the explosion intact and not drawing the attention of an enemy were… not great.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jason needs her to just come out and _say it_ so he can either rejoice or be crushed_._

Mercifully, she does. “That doll in your pocket. You picked it up at the explosion site, didn’t you? It’s _Tim_, I can sense his soul within it_._ He must have triggered his emergency transformation spell as a last resort and taken the form of a doll.”

“Action figure,” he mutters automatically as he pulls the little doll out to cradle it in his palm and stare at it in wonder. _Emergency transformation what now?_

From the sound of everyone’s loud reactions, _no one _knew about whatever the fuck contingency plan of Tim’s it was that triggered this whole goddamn mess. And the Bats seem to be of the opinion that Jason’s apparent delusion was due to some kind of psychic connection to the doll, which… _no, _but he’ll take it. Pretty much _any _explanation is better than the truth, that he started talking to a fuckin’ action figure because he was lonely and missed Tim.

Amidst the clamor of startled shouts, relieved and concerned chatter, and demands for explanations that follows, Jason just goes into a quiet daze.

_Timmy’s _alive._ Thank god. Wait_…_ but everyone thinks we're dating. Oh _shit,_ this is gonna be embarrassing as all fuck. Whatever, Baby Bird's alive, I don't even care about anything else right now._

He misses most of the chaotic discussion going on, only tuning back in when Raven says something about going back to Titans Tower to get the counter spell.

“You don’t have to bother with that!” Dick’s grinning so hard he’s practically vibrating with relief and joy. “You just mentioned the spell can either be reversed by the proper counter spell_ or _by true love’s kiss, right?” At Raven’s slightly confused nod, he grins even wider. _“Jason’s_ right here! _He_ can do it!”

He turns to smile expectantly at Jason, who freezes in terror like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck.

_Oh my fuckin’ god, this is like one of those nightmares where you go to class and there’s a test you forgot about in a subject you’ve never learned, and everyone’s looking at you and you realize you’re naked and then you look down and you’re fuckin’ hard. Only this is even worse somehow, what the _fuck? _Goddamn you, Dickie!_

Jason wants to shrink into the floor as every eye in the room turns to him, the Titans confused and slightly disbelieving, the Bats damningly supportive and encouraging.

_If I try to kiss that damn doll, nothing’s gonna happen and then the jig will be up. All my progress mending fences with the family will go up in smoke and they’ll never trust me again. Once Tim _does _get transformed back, he’ll think I’m a goddamn pervert who lied about being in a relationship with him while he was dead and couldn’t defend himself. Jesus fuck, this sucks. And it’s all my own goddamn fault._

He sure as hell needs to tell them the truth right _now._ There's literally no other option, and even coming clean isn’t likely to help much with all the barely healed trust issues his little confession is about to detonate wide open.

So of fucking _course,_ instead of coming clean his response is to slowly lift the doll up to his lips and press a soft kiss to the top of its little head, like _that’s _going to help anything.

_I’m a goddamn moron_, he thinks in despair as he waits for the inevitable failure followed by deserved accusations, his own awkward confessions, and finally everyone else’s censoring or, worse, _pitying_ stares.

…Which is why Jason’s more surprised than anyone when a breath later his arms are filled with a full sized, smiling, breathing, very much _alive _Red Robin.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” he whispers, automatically pulling the smaller man protectively closer as though to verify he’s really there, warm and vibrant and _living_.

_Fuck, I’m so glad he’s okay. And if I’m actually fuckin’ _lucky _for once, he won’t remember a damn thing about what happened while he was a doll…_

Red Robin pushes off the cowl and Tim looks up at Jason, grinning giddily. “Hey, Jay. Still interested in that pancake date?” He waggles his eyebrows and snickers, the beautiful little shit.

He’s so goddamn gorgeous, precious and here and _whole._ Jason forgets all his misgivings, his guilt and embarrassment, and just stares at him. _“Fuck, _Baby Bird, I thought I lost you,” he whispers thickly, gathering the smaller man close in a crushing hug.

Tim wiggles closer, wrapping his arms around his arms around Jason’s broad shoulders to hug him back. “Nope,” he whispers in his ear. “…But I think we have a _lot _to talk about now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Dick, showing up at Jason’s safehouse bearing Alfred-food: ** *Tackle-hugs Jason* “You don’t have to pretend anymore, Jay! We know you and Tim were in looooove!”  
**Jason, stunned into silence: ** “…”  
**Dick, sobbing: ** “You’re so strong” *Wraps Jason in all thirteen of the tentacles he suddenly manifests* “C’mere, Little Wing!”  
**Jason, horrified: ** “OH JESUS GOD WHY” *Struggles to escape, accidentally jostles Tim-doll which bumps into his lips and turns back into Tim*  
**Tim, blinking shyly up at Jason from his position wrapped in Jason’s embrace: ** “Well hello there” *Bats away a stray tentacle* “Btw, we need to talk”  
**Jason, unable to words: ** “…”  
*  
I just want to take a moment to thank the lovely Shmoo92, who very kindly offered to post the first few chapters of this story for me while I was camping and had no internet access. THANK YOU, Shmoo! Also for resisting the (very understandable!) urge to throw ✨ everywhere while you were at it (wouldn't have quite fit the tone for this particular story). And thank you to all who have commented or given kudos so far! Those were a lovely welcome home. 
> 
> :D


	6. Chapter 6

Tim hurries through the hugs and reassurances with his team, knowing he’s in for a _long _bonding session once he gets back to the Tower to make up for sending them off like this. Hours of awesome movies, games, great food, and his best friends—it’s almost enough to balance out all the _emotions _and explanations he knows they’re going to have to deal with along the way.

_Well, I guess that’s what I get for having such amazing friends. And also for enacting dangerous contingency plans without telling anyone about them beforehand… Whoops?_

He smiles to himself as the Titans leave the same way they arrived. Then he turns to face the Bats, expecting they’ll be a lot more difficult to get rid of without a long debrief session and probably a lecture or two to boot. Which isn’t so bad, except that he’s pretty sure he and Jason _really _need to talk before they face down the whole family.

Tim’s already plotting ways to escape for at least long enough for them to get on the same page. He looks around only to see Dick beaming at him while physically holding a protesting Bruce back. “They can debrief _later, _B! Go on, guys, I’m sure you need some _alone_ time together to catch up and _reconnect!” _The grinning idiot actually _winks _at them, and Tim blushes ferociously.

_Um, I know you guys are under the impression we’re a couple but geez, really? Oh god, I can already tell the teasing is going to be _horrible _from now on._

Jason’s just as red as he is, shoulders hunched a little as he darts quick, unsure glances over at Tim every so often. It’s clear the other man still doesn’t understand that he has no intention of outing the false status of their presumed relationship to the rest of the Bats.

_I’m going to have to reassure him about things as soon as possible. Dick definitely has the right idea. Ah, not about the sex, we’re not there yet. Just the alone time part._

He takes the taller man’s hand and tugs him gently toward the stairs up to the Manor, pleasantly surprised when Damian darts forward to assist Dick in holding Bruce back. The brat’s actually a pretty decent brother if you just learn to look past his… well, _everything._

“Go, Todd! Welcome your paramour back and endeavor to repair your weakened mind. I do not wish ever to experience a reprisal of your delusions. _The Ventriloquist _is already taken as a supervillain name, after all, as is Dollmaker, so unless you desire to be associated with _their _ilk you should avoid any future reliance upon children’s toys. Although if you _must, _at least select a superior character for your mascot next time. I suggest Robin or Nightwing.” The brat smirks.

Dick turns to the boy with a surprised grin. “Dami, was that a _joke?”_

The child tosses his head haughtily. “It was merely the _truth! _Incidentally, Todd, if you choose to compromise Drake on any of the Manor furniture, I shall inform Pennyworth.”

_Good threat, Baby Bat, _Tim thinks approvingly, wondering idly how long it will be before he and Jason can actually follow through on the whole _compromising _each other thing. It’s a really tempting thought. He loses himself in it for a long moment before remembering he has functional limbs again and he can’t just drift off in daydreams anymore.

_It was surprisingly restful to be stuck as a doll. Not much of a sense of the passage of time, so my attention just focused whenever Jason was talking to me or something interesting was going on. And he was being so nice to me… I feel refreshed, like I’ve just awakened from a really great sleep._

_Although it’s interesting that my uniform is actually _repaired _now. I guess Jason’s actions while I was a doll had some effect on that? It would be interesting to do some tests later to figure out the extent of the connection there_…

“No promises,” he calls out as he pulls on Jason’s hand and leads him out of the Cave, laughing when Damian begins sputtering indignantly behind them. Actually _holding Jason’s hand _is so thrilling he can barely bite back the brilliant grin which threatens to take over his whole face.

Having to endure being so close to the gorgeous older man for the past few days without actually being able to speak or _touch _him has been straight-up _torturous, _especially when he was in the room while the other man was showering or changing clothes. He feels slightly guilty at the memory of those illicit shows, but it’s not like he could actually _move_ to look away.

The worst, though, was not being able to comfort Jason when he was crying and mourning him. Wanting to reach out and hold him but being unable to do so.

_At least I have a chance to do everything I possibly can to make it up to him now._

They detour to the kitchen briefly so Tim can give Alfred a hug. Everyone pretends not to see the glint of tears in the old man's eyes.

_I’m so glad this only lasted a few days. It was awful seeing everyone grieving over me and I wish there’d been a way to prevent that. Although it’s incredible to realize they all care so much. Somehow, I never would’ve expected them to react like that._

And then they’re finally in the library. Tim pushes the door closed and turns to face the man who has unwittingly taken care of him over the past few days, in the process accidentally revealing far more about himself and his feelings than he ever intended.

Jason looks _terrified._

His heart goes out to the other man and he hurries to give him the reassurance he so clearly needs. “Jay, _thank you_ for everything you did while I was transformed. I thought I was going to be trapped in that rubble for however long it took for the Titans to finish their mission, come back and notice I was gone, and then hopefully, eventually, find me and figure out how to transform me back. I knew there was a chance someone else might find me first, and if it had been anyone but _you_ I probably would’ve ended up being thrown away or stuck in a toy box for the rest of my life.”

Jason clears his throat, slowly sitting down on the couch. “Well, that's pretty fucked up. The hell were you _thinking_, Baby Bird, pulling such a risky stunt?”

He shrugs, taking a seat on the couch himself a careful distance away from him. “That it was my only chance? Seriously, this was my last resort contingency for a _reason._ Too many ways it could go wrong, not enough control over all the variables.”

“Why the hell was it even an _option_, then? How’d you happen to have a spell like that on you, anyway? I know Raven said something about it, but even she didn’t seem to know all the details.”

“A while back the Titans fought a mage who kept turning us into dolls during the battle. What really struck me about it at the time was the fact that the dolls were basically _indestructible_ until they were changed back by the counter spell… Or, as Kon and Cassie discovered by accident, true love’s kiss. It was ridiculously annoying during the fight itself, but later… I thought it might be a good thing to have on hand, just in case.”

“So you somehow got the _enemy mage_ to give you an amulet or something with the spell attached, and you’ve been carrying it around with you ever since on the off chance it _might_ come in handy?” Jason sounds like he isn’t sure whether he should be impressed or appalled. Which isn’t really an unusual reaction to the revelation of some of Tim’s more eccentric contingency plans.

_Eh, whatever, they _work_ and that’s the important thing._

“Not _exactly,”_ Tim shrugs. “He wasn’t so bad once we got a chance to actually sit down and talk to him without all the transforming-into-dolls business. I got him to enchant my false tooth so if I open it and then make a certain complicated movement with my tongue, it activates the spell.”

Jason frowns. “False tooth?”

Tim shrugs. “Teeth get knocked out sometimes. Why _not_ take advantage of the opportunity to have a hollow false one put in that you can use to hold the occasional lockpicks, tracker, recording device, or whatever may be useful on any particular mission? The spell was tied to the tooth itself and can be activated without removing or interfering with whatever I have in it at the time. Which at the moment is lock picks.”

_C’mon, it isn’t _that _weird. I know Bruce totally has a false tooth he keeps smoke bombs in. Although I guess comparing myself to _B _isn’t necessarily the best sign of excellent mental health… Anyway, everyone’ll think it was a _great _idea when I inevitably end up needing something in it._

Jason stares at him for a while, apparently absorbing all of that. Then he blinks as though another thought is occurring to him. “Wait, what _kind_ of tongue movement?” He sounds more intrigued than horrified now—excellent.

“Like tying a knot in a cherry stem with my tongue.” Tim smirks.

Jason’s eyes grow darker and he leans forward intently. “Fuck, that’s hot. _God,_ I love how fuckin’ smart and prepared you are, it’s so damn sexy.” His eyes widen as he realizes what he just said and opens his mouth like he’s about to start to back peddling, so Tim calmly stops him.

There’s no reason to let their hesitation waste any more time they could be putting to much better use, like making out.

“I love you too,” he whispers, causing the taller man to freeze in place. “All that time under the spell… I could hear everything you said, you know. And… it really gave me time to think, about us. What we could be, if we just give ourselves a chance.”

He bites his lip. This next admission is going to hurt a little for both of them. “Jason, I had a crush on you for _years,_ back when you were Robin.” He ignores the pained whine the other man makes, face twisting in fresh guilt at the knowledge the boy he hurt used to care about him like _that._

Now that he’s heard the depth of the older man’s pain and regret at the way he treated his replacement during the tumultuous period after he first returned, he understands how much it will _hurt _him to realize not only had he hurt an innocent, but one who looked up to him with affection and naïve desire.

_I really wish there was a way to do this without hurting him, but I think having nothing between us but the truth is more important than sparing his feelings in the long run. What we’re starting here… I want us to last._

It’s amazing how easy it is to read the older man’s reactions now that he’s had a chance to hear how he truly feels, uncensored by pride and fear and all the other barriers which usually hinder their communication.

Well, Jason’s done his part, if involuntarily. Now it’s up to Tim to knock down the last of those walls by telling his own truth.

“How I felt about you… It never really changed, not even when you came back and hated me,_ hurt_ me. I just learned to set it aside over the years, the same way I’ve set aside a lot of other things that got in the way of what I believed I had to do. Hell, I’ve spent most of my _life_ just _accepting_ that the people I loved either don’t love me back or never care about me as much as I care about them, so it wasn’t like it was a big revelation or anything.” He swallows, eyes stinging with unwanted tears at the memories of an empty house.

_Yeah, that was a lesson I started learning pretty young._

“That’s fuckin’ _bullshit,”_ Jason interjects fiercely. “You deserve _so much_ love, Timmy, you got _no_ idea.”

“I’m trying to learn to believe that,” Tim answers honestly. “My team helps. Being around _you_ these past few days, seeing and hearing how you really feel about me, how _hard_ you worked to try to figure out what happened to me—_god_, Jason. Before, I was just happy you weren’t so angry at me all the time. That you had gotten far enough past hating me to at least work together and_ try_ to be friends. I never would’ve pushed for more, if not for this experience.”

_I never would have dared to dream you might pull a one-eighty and start to care about me too._

The big man is staring at him, teal eyes alight with hope. “…And now?” he breathes, reaching out and tracing a thumb along the curve of Tim’s cheek just like he did so many times while he was under the spell.

It feels different now because he’s bigger and flesh again instead of plastic… but the sense of comfort and safety the gesture fills him with is exactly the same. Tim grins. “Oh, now that I actually know how you really feel? I’m d_efinitely _pushing for more. So what do you say? I’ve been low-key in love with you for years, and I’d _really_ like to take you up on that whole home cooking, massages, and orgasms followed by pancakes thing you offered when you thought I was just a doll.”

“Action figure,” Jason mutters, gaze fixed on his mouth.

Tim slowly smiles, licking his lips and watching the other man’s eyes track the movement. “Whatever. So, what do you say? Boyfriends for real?” He leans infinitesimally closer, heart pounding.

_“Fuck_ yeah, Baby Bird,” Jason murmurs as he surges forward, capturing Tim’s lips with his. The kiss is hot, desperate and perfect as his fingers tangle in the taller man’s hair.

_Oh my god, yes!_

Tim leans back and Jason follows him down, hovering over him as he lies on the couch. He covers him completely with his gorgeous, thick, built body and continues to press passionate, deliciously warm kisses to his lips. “God_, Baby,_ you taste so good. You’re so fuckin' sweet, wanna fuckin’ _devour_ you…”

_I_…_ would not be against that._

“Do it,” he rasps, hardly recognizing the sound of his own voice. “I _want _you, Jason.” His hips lift seeking friction and he ends up grinding against the other man, who groans softly in response to his words and the movement.

“Fuck, you feel amazing. Jesus _Christ,_ are you trying to kill me or something? You know Alfie’d have our heads for fucking in the library if we did it here.” He grinds his hips down several times despite his words, both of them panting slightly at the incredible sensations chipping away at their quickly waning control.

_God, I want him so bad…!_

Even if the wrath of Alfred comes down on them in punishment, he’s starting to think it just might be worth it. “I think Alfred would forgive us for defiling the furniture just this once, don’t you?” Tim asks hopefully, sensing Jason's definitely considering it.

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Bruce's voice answers unexpectedly from an armchair shrouded in shadows in the far corner of the room

The shock of hearing _B’s_ deep voice in that moment causes Jason to scream and roll off of the couch, landing on his feet gripping a copy of _Purgatorio_ defensively in front of him.

Tim just lies there on the couch frozen in horror, blushing so hard he wonders crazily if his face might actually catch _fire _from the sheer catastrophic embarrassment of this moment.

_What the actual fuck? Bruce, you gigantic bat-turd, how can the concept of _privacy_ be so impossible for you to comprehend?_

“Bruce,” he says carefully, “what the _fuck?”_

The older man stares at them, looking caught between extreme discomfort and actual distress. “Dick became distracted once I suggested sparring with Damian to pass the time. They believed I was busy making my report on the Batcomputer when in fact I was attempting to follow your conversation on the Manor security cameras.”

_Of course he was._

Tim and Jason exchange a quick, horrified _what the hell B_ glance of solidarity before the obliviously invasive man stolidly continues in his explanation.

“I noticed you were heading toward the library, which has poor camera coverage, so I slipped in using the secret entrance from the Cave. By the time I realized your conversation was… _personal _in nature and not simply a concise summary of the events of the past several days, it was too late to leave without making things… awkward.”

_Why would he think I was going to give Jason a concise summary of the past few days? WHY? How did all of Dick’s hints about what we were going to get up to fly right over his head like that? It’s like he literally can’t understand human emotions. Which… would actually explain a lot of things, come to think of it._

Jason’s standing there with his face buried in both his hands. “B, this is _even more awkward.”_

A stilted shrug is his only response.

Tim finally recovers from his dismay enough to carefully sit up. “Okay, now that _that_ moment has been thoroughly and forever ruined, how about you head on down to the Cave, Jay and I get back to figuring out the details of our relationship, and none of us ever mention or _think_ about this unbearably embarrassing five-minute interval ever again?”

Bruce nods, stands stiffly, and then makes his way out of the room only to pause, looming bulkily in the doorway. “I strongly suggest resisting the temptation to invoke Alfred's wrath by christening the furniture.” Looking slightly haunted and avoiding eye contact, he mutters, “Alfred _always_ finds out, and he has his ways of exacting punishment. Don’t risk it.”

_Ugh, there’s definitely a gross story behind _that. _Thank goodness he didn’t decide to share it with us. Having to hear about our Bat-Dad having sex would probably kill the romance even faster than having him creep on us. The big weirdo._

With that ominous statement, Bruce finally leaves, fortunately taking most of the awkward with him as he goes.

“…Did that really just happen?” Jason asks, lowering his hands and exposing a red, mortified face. “I thought by dying as a brat I’d at least managed to avoid the worst of the embarrassing dad moments. What the _fuck?_ What the hell was _this,_ all the humiliation I shoulda gone through in high school crammed into one infinitely horrible moment?”

He's so cute and flustered, completely different from the badass image Red Hood usually projects. This is _Jason, _and he’s so damn _sweet_. Tim stares at him in delighted wonder as an adorable realization slowly fills his mind.

“Oh my god, you're a _dork._ Why did no one ever tell me you’re actually a huge dork?” He can feel his face slowly stretching into what’s probably an embarrassingly besotted grin.

“Timmy. You’ve literally watched me spend the last few days talking to a fuckin’ doll.”

“Action figure!” Tim snaps automatically, then blinks in surprise.

“Whatever. Anyway, the fact that I’m a secret dork should not come as a surprise to you.” Jason shrugs with a self-deprecating smile that he wants to kiss.

“…Point.” Tim stands up, going over to take his boyfriend’s hand and kiss the endearing little smile. “Well, if we don’t want to risk any more interruptions, I suggest we take this somewhere a little more… _private.”_

Jason grins, recovering some of his aplomb now that it’s been a few minutes since the humiliation of his _dad _basically doing the Bat-ish equivalent of walking in on him getting down and dirty with his new boyfriend. “Sounds like a _damn_ good plan to me, Baby Bird. My place?” He winks, then sweetens the deal. “I got the stuff there to make pancakes in the morning…”

He nearly whimpers at the thought. “Yes, _please.” _Yes to the pancakes as well as all the rest of the accompanying promises Jason made, when he whispered his secrets and Tim heard, and _wanted_.

And then they’re kissing again, and it’s _glorious._

In the end, it’s only the looming threat of Batman showing up again that keeps them from christening the couch after all.

And the pancakes are _delicious._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tim: ** “So… I was the doll the WHOLE TIME!” *Does jazz hands* “Tada!”  
**Jason, slowly dying of humiliation: ** “Please tell me you didn’t hear all that embarrassing shit I said”  
**Tim, tilting his head inquisitively: ** “You want me to lie?”  
**Jason: ** *Whimpers* “Kinda, yeah”  
**Tim, patting him comfortingly on the thigh: ** “It’s cool I’m into you too. Wanna make out?” *Climbs on Jason’s lap and begins wiggling out of clothes with Jason’s enthusiastic assistance*  
**Bruce, from right beside them: ** “Can you move slightly to the left? You keep bumping my knee”  
**Jason and Tim, shrieking in shock and horror: ** “WTF BRUCE” *Leap apart at sight of Batdad on same couch as their horny shenanigans*  
**Bruce, appalled at said horny shenanigans but trying to be a good dad: ** “Selina and I keep a stash of condoms and lube in The Canterbury Tales. Be safe!” *Flees*  
**Jason and Tim: ** *Stare at each other for a long moment, shrug, then slowly reach for the lube…*  
*  
Well, there it is! In case you couldn’t tell, this story was _very_ loosely inspired by the myth of Pygmalion and Galatea. For the bingo card, I used the diagonal row from top left to bottom right (warriors, wings, secrets for the free space, betrayal, and titans). 
> 
> Thank you so much to all who have given kudos or commented, and big thank you to the hardworking mods over at Jaytim Week for organizing all of this! Also, thanks to the [Capes & Coffee Tim Drake discord server](https://discord.gg/bGhpCDn) for the sprints, betas, and general fun while I was writing this. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story, and thanks for reading!


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